Spirit
by SGAFan
Summary: Sheppard and his team have to fight for their lives when the Wraith capture them. But for the hope of freedom, they'll have to survive in world they've never faced before. Will have some Shep whump and is rated T for now...
1. Chapter 1

_It's been a long time since I've posted anyting long. This story idea has been bouncing around in my head for over a year, and I just now really have a grasp on it (hopefully!) so I can write it. I have a significant amount of the story written at this point (after fighting my AWOL muse for a couple months :( ) but still so much more to go. Making a few changes as I go but thought I was far enough along to go ahead and start posting chapters. :) So... ;) _

_**Spirit**_

"_**The Human spirit is never finished when it is defeated… **_

_**it is finished when it surrenders." **_

_**Ben Stein**_

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"Hmm… trees. How novel."

John quirked his brows at Rodney's sarcastic comment before he stopped, just past the event horizon and scanned the immediate area around the gate. He slid his sunglasses into place to filter out the bright rays of sun streaming down into the small clearing that surrounded them. Rodney did have a point; it seemed most of the planets they visited were forested in one way or another, but then again, they rarely explored the entire planet. Maybe the Ancients just liked trees and placed the Stargates accordingly.

John's right hand left his sunglasses and settled on the top of his P-90, held loosely in his grasp. He walked away from the gate. "We could send you back to M5R-927," he answered without looking back. Not that he needed to. Rodney's loud sigh was enough for him to know that he'd succeeded in annoying the scientist.

"Funny. No blizzards, thank you very much."

"Many worlds I have traded with are forested," Teyla commented. "The woods provide much; from trees for fuel and shelter, to animals and plants for food."

"How very survivalist of you," Rodney muttered as he stared at his Life Signs Detector. Just give me a condo with a McDonalds around the corner and I'll be fine."

"What's a McDonalds?" Ronon asked.

"Never mind," John answered before Rodney could speak. "Anything McKay?"

Rodney sighed. "Nothing. Well, nothing worth mentioning anyway, just some odd energy readings. But, they're not indicative of a power source, nor are they anything that's going to hurt us. They're probably natural occurring. I'm getting some sensor echoes, but I think I can compensate for those…" his voice trailed off as he tapped a few keys on the LSD.

John turned away from his team mates, his sights settling on a worn path leading through the woods and away from the gate. "How about we go that way?"

"How about we not?" Rodney answered. "I just said I wasn't detecting anything worth mentioning. Well, beyond the weird planetary readings, but that's hardly something we need to investigate."

"Just…" John started, only to be interrupted by Rodney.

"Getting to know the neighbors. I know, I get it. Why do you have to be so friendly anyway?" he snapped.

"Because otherwise I'd be like you," John answered, again without looking back. He could hear Rodney's footsteps right behind him and something that sounded like a chortle coming from the general vicinity of Ronon, who took the six as they started down the path.

"Smart ass," Rodney muttered.

John chuckled quietly as he followed the meandering path. He felt himself relax slightly… well as much as he'd ever relax when he took his team off world anyway. The woods were serene and the silence was somehow soothing. It wasn't until he heard Teyla gasp that he realized things were too quiet.

"Colonel!"

Teyla's choked, half whispered, hail stopped him in his tracks. John spun, his gaze narrowing at her. "What is it?" The words had no sooner left his mouth when the silence around them was broken by an all too familiar whine that turned into a high pitched keen. "Darts!" Even though he and his team were hidden by the thick woods, he unconsciously ducked, as a Dart flew low over the trees and towards the gate.

John ripped his sunglasses off and shoved them into is vest pocket. "Where the hell did they come from?" He questioned. "McKay?"

Rodney stared intensely at his LSD. "More coming in on foot from the south... I think… Two hundred twenty yards and closing."

"You think?" John's voice rose an octave.

"Yes! Sensor echoes remember?" Rodney snapped.

"I sense them," Teyla whispered. "They are…" she closed her eyes for a moment. "They are culling a village not far from here."

John listened for a moment and nodded at the faint sound of darts and explosions in the distance. "It's at least a mile away. So much for sensor echoes." He muttered. "They're probably sweeping the area for any stragglers trying to get to the gate."

"I can't believe we were able to 'Gate in," Rodney abruptly spoke. "The Wraith usually disable gates on worlds they're culling… or at least keep an active wormhole to prevent anyone from dialing out. Wonder why they didn't do that here?"

"Well we're not going to stand around and wait to ask them and we're going to hope to hell they don't take your advice before we can dial out of here." John answered as he stepped around Teyla and Rodney. "I'm on point. McKay, keep a close eye on our friends in the woods. Ronon, take the six. Let's move!"

Without another word, John set a brisk pace down the path towards the gate._Damn it!_ He inwardly cursed, irritated at how quickly things went sour.

"I do not understand why I did not sense the Hive in orbit as soon as we arrived through the Stargate," Teyla sounded confused. "They could not have been out of range."

"It has to be those anomalous readings I picked up. Damn it!" Rodney snapped, "I'm still having problems isolating life signs from echoes."

"But that does not explain why I could not sense them," Teyla insisted.

"We'll figure it out later!" John answered. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder at Teyla. "And, while this sucks, it's not your fault."

"Sheppard!"

"JOHN!"

Both Rodney and Teyla's warnings were simultaneous and John staggered to a stop as three Wraith burst from the bushes in front of them. "Cover!" He dove to the side and towards a clump of bushes as a stunner beam arced through the very spot he'd just vacated. He hit the ground hard and rolled into a kneeling position, before sending a volley of P-90 fire into the nearest Wraith soldier.

"Ronon!"

Teyla's worried shout grabbed John's attention and he turned, just in time to see three more Wraith soldiers flank their position. "Watch out!" he shouted.

Ronon turned towards the new attackers, but he was a half breath late. It took two stun blasts but within seconds, the big Satedan was unconscious on the forest floor.

"Cover fire!" John ordered as crouched and ran towards his fallen teammate. Grabbing the top of Ronon's tunic, he pulled, grunting at the effort but still managing to haul the big man behind a tree.

John knelt over his friend, one knee on the forest floor while he braced his elbow on the other and steadied his P-90. He fired on the closest Wraith but as soon as it fell, another took its place. _This is not good…_

"There's too many!" Rodney's panicked voice still made itself heard over the loud shots from their guns.

"Keep firing!" John urged as he leveled another guard. Ducking behind a small tree, he quickly pulled the empty P-90 magazine free before tossing it into the bushes. He pulled another one from his vest, loaded it and fired on the next target that presented itself.

Teyla's broken cry reached his ears and he turned his head, his eyes widening as she crumpled to the ground, unconscious from a stunner blast. For a moment, John's gaze met Rodney's and they exchanged the briefest of resigned looks. Hardening his resolve, John turned and fired on another guard, oddly reassured as he heard shots from Rodney's gun as well.

The hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood up straight and John spun towards two Wraith that were approaching from behind. But, like Ronon, his reaction was a breath too late. He grimaced, a strangled cry escaping him as a stunner blast struck him square in the chest sending first intense pain, then debilitating numbness through his body. He managed to turn his head slightly and the last thing he saw before darkness took him was Rodney's unconscious form. The ground rushed up to meet him, but he never felt its impact.

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Awareness came to him slowly. His eyes still closed, John furrowed his brows and swallowed hard before groaning against the throbbing in his head._Damn…_

As his alertness increased he realized his arms were spread wide and felt uncomfortable… like the muscles were being stretched beyond what was normal. Slowly, he opened his eyes and stared, his addled mind starting to process what his eyes were seeing. The floor was there, sure, but his feet weren't touching it. Suddenly, his mind put two and two together. His arms hurt and felt stretched because he was suspended off the ground and pressed hard against a cold wall.

Against the protests of the stiff muscles in his neck, John slowly lifted his head looking first to his right arm and then to the left. Both were flat against the rough wall, with thick bonds covering his wrists and elbows to hold him there. Craning his head, he looked down to see his legs in similar circumstances; spread apart with the same thick bonds circling his ankles. Two sturdy bonds, almost vine like, circled his waist and chest, holding his torso against the wall as well. He was effectively tied and, as he pulled against the restraints, not going anywhere soon.

It was at that moment, that he felt a light vibration against his back. Looking around, John took in the architecture that surrounded him and felt a cold cramp race through his gut as he immediately recognized the distinct design of a Wraith hive ship. "This is not good…" he muttered.

Another light groan captured his attention and he looked right as Ronon stirred slightly. "Ronon? Ronon! Wake up."

Ronon's eyes snapped open with a start and he looked around before pulling hard against his restraints, his grunts echoing in the large empty room.

"Don't fight it," John urged, shaking his head as Ronon continued to struggle. "You can't get loose." After a moment, Ronon ceased and looked around. "Wraith?" he panted lightly.

"Yeah. So much for echoes on Rodney's detector…" John's voice trailed off and he turned his head left, watching as Rodney and Teyla stirred back to consciousness. He waited until they both opened their eyes and looked at him. "You guys okay?"

Rodney pulled against his bonds before looking around, realization dawning on him. "Oh yeah, peachy."

"I am uninjured, Colonel," Teyla nodded once at him.

"What now?" Rodney again met gazes with John, "because somehow I don't think the Wraith will be inclined to just let us go." His last words cracked slightly from barely concealed panic.

John pulled absently against his bonds and forced aside his apprehension so he could think clearly. "Still working on that."

"Want to think faster?" The pitch of Rodney's voice increased slightly.

"Don't panic," John hardened his gaze. "Just…" his voice trailed off as a large, webbed door abruptly parted, admitting a tall, tattooed Wraith male. He stopped and looked them over as the two halves of the door closed behind him.

John lifted his head and put on the strongest spiteful look he could muster. He may be tied up and helpless but he'd be damned if he'd give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing him scared. "So what do I call you?" His voice was deep and cynical, "Harry?"

The Wraith slowly and silently walked up to him before staring him in the eyes; a glare that John returned.

John drew in a quick breath but refused to break the eye contact he had with the Wraith. It was close, so close he could feel its hot breath on his face, but he didn't flinch.

The Wraith hissed quietly and suddenly threw his feeding hand back, poised, ready to descend on John's chest and steal his life.

"No!" Rodney shouted.

John clenched his teeth, his lips pulling back into a sneer as he stared defiantly back at the Wraith, still not breaking gazes with him.

A long moment passed, the battle of wills between the Wraith and John sitting at a stalemate before the Wraith slowly lowered his hand.

"I could savor the taste of your defiance," the Wraith hissed quietly, "but there are far better uses for that strength." John had no idea what the Wraith was talking about, but at the moment, he didn't care. He swallowed hard, forcing the fear and apprehension within him to silence, leaving only the strength and defiance for the Wraith to see. "Like killing you?" he spat.

The Wraith smiled, his expression slightly challenging. "Another day, perhaps." He turned and walked towards Teyla. "I could feed on any one of you." He stopped and stared at Teyla who glared back at him. Leaving her, he walked to Rodney. "Or all of you." He met gazes with Rodney for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly before he turned and walked over to Ronon.

"Runner," he hissed quietly, "you are well known to us." His second hiss turned into a leering smile. "Pleasant surprise."

Ronon's cheek muscles twitched in barely controlled anger. He stared hard at the Wraith for a moment before spitting in his face.

Snarling, the Wraith backhanded Ronon, who bounced hard off the wall and slumped in his restraints apparently stunned.

John pulled against the bonds his spiteful gaze deepening. "Leave him alone!"

The Wraith male turned his attention to John. Barely more than inches from John's face, the Wraith stared deeply into his eyes and hissed quietly.

"It is possible you are too much trouble to keep alive. Perhaps, I should feed upon you now, human," the Wraith tipped his head slightly, a chilling eager look crossing his expression.

John swallowed against his fear, refusing to let the strong defiant look on his face crack. "Then shut up and do it." He pulled in a short breath and waited.

The Wraith stared one moment longer and then smiled widely. He snapped his sharp teeth together once, and stepped back. "The others on that planet were what we would expect to find on our feeding grounds; suitable only for consumption, but you…" His eyes widened in anticipation. "Your weapons, your sprits… you are different. Merely feeding upon you would be a waste. You are perfect for the Round." He looked Ronon up and down for a moment. "As is the Runner." Turning to Teyla, the Wraith hissed at her. "And you."

John's gaze narrowed. "The Round? As in Merry-Go?" He quipped cynically.

The Wraith returned his attention to John. "Do you think we only consume Humans?" He closed the distance between them and again fixed him with an eager look. "One must have…entertainment." His hands clasped behind his back, the Wraith walked a few feet away. He turned towards the prisoners. "The Hives of our alliance are strong. Very few challenge us. Because of this, we have the luxury of pursuing other… interests. We have found many of your kind are formidable fighters…at least against each other…when properly motivated." Slowly, he walked back, "and that provides much entertainment for us. Our queens enjoy watching skilled combat, even if it is only humans. You can be very… inventive with primitive weapons," He showed a wide set of sharp teeth as he smiled. "When you have no choice but to fight or die."

"God," Rodney whispered, "its gladiatorial combat! The Round is the Wraith version of a coliseum."

John glanced at Rodney, momentarily pondering his exclamation. It was a fast leapt to conclusion, but one John couldn't discount. He slowly looked back at the Wraith and swallowed, strengthening his voice with cynicism. "I hate to disappoint you, but we're not the cooperating type…at least not with bad guys that want to suck the life out of us."

"Many of your kind have said such things," the Wraith countered. "I could just put you in the Round anyway, but I have learned with ones as rebellious as you, that you are most troublesome and even, on occasion, refuse to fight." The Wraith sighed in an almost bored way. "And while the taste of your hatred is sweet, it still proves to be… less than entertaining."

The Wraith backed away from John and turned to Rodney.

John tore his eyes from the Wraith and caught Rodney's gaze. Barely controlled fear radiated from Rodney's eyes, despite his best effort to hide it. John poured as much strength into his expression as he could manage, and willed it towards his friend for an instant, before Rodney returned his gaze to the Wraith.

"You," The Wraith's tone was chilling as he stared at Rodney, "are not suited for the Round. I have no use for you," the Wraith's gaze turned eager, "other than the obvious."

Even from his position, John could see Rodney's hard swallow and felt his panic. Fear rose in him. "No!" Again, he pulled against his restraints, but was helpless in their grasp.

The Wraith slowly turned and stared at him. "Give me a reason not to feed upon your companion and I will consider it."

John looked away for a moment, his mind racing. He glanced at Ronon, who'd recovered enough to hear the exchange. For a moment, he shared an intense look with the Satedan who slowly nodded back at him. They had no choice and Ronon's affirmation forced John to acknowledge it.

Seething, John looked back at the Wraith. "We'll fight." He spat, his voice was quiet and filled with hatred. He jerked his head in Rodney's direction. "As long as you leave him alone. You hurt him and all bets are off. I want to see him, alive and well, every day so I know you're keeping your end of the bargain."

"Sheppard!" Rodney's voice shook slightly. "Don't. You can't…"

John glanced at him. "Shut up!" he snapped.

Again the Wraith stepped close to John and scrutinized him.

John met his gaze. "That's the deal. Take it, or leave it."

Slowly, what passed for a victorious smile spread across the Wraith's face. "We have an agreement. However, caring for your companion is not my concern. He goes to the Pit, with you and the others. But, if you do not fight; if you cause trouble," the Wraith leaned in close to John's face, "I will feed upon him while you watch… helpless. Then I will kill each of your companions and leave you to die in the Round."

John's smile was devoid of any humor as he nodded. "Well, since you put it so nicely… agreed."

The Wraith snarled once at him, and then turned and exited the room. On his heels eight guards entered, stunners pointed at the team.

Without warning, the bonds holding John to the wall let go, and he tumbled to the floor, the muffled grunts of his team mates proving their fate had been the same. He pushed himself to his hands and knees and looked up… directly into the business end of a stunner rifle. "Right," he muttered as he raised his hands and slowly got to his feet.

Another Wraith stuck a stunner rifle in his back and pushed hard. John staggered and spared the Wraith a glare before leading his team, surrounded by Wraith, from the room.

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John walked down the long corridor, his mind racing, searching for a way to escape. But, as he looked around, he realized this wasn't the time. They were surrounded by eight Wraith guards, armed with stunner rifles and he and his team were completely unarmed. They could fight hand to hand, but not against those odds. They'd never win and every time you engaged in combat you risked injury. Right now, he and his team were healthy and mobile, and he wasn't about to risk that on an escape attempt that had next to no chance of success… not yet anyway. John sighed quietly. As much as he grated against being a captive, he grudgingly had to accept it, at least for now.

The hallway terminated in a larger room with some sort of rectangular, smooth table in the center. John stopped as the guards in front of him halted and turned to face him and his team.

"Sheppard," Ronon spoke and was pushed roughly in the back for it. He tensed, ready to spring into action.

"No." John's tone was absolute. Another Wraith jabbed him in the back with a stunner and he slowly turned, fixing it with a cold glare. "I get it. No talking."

"What do we…" Rodney started, only to be knocked to his knees by yet another guard.

"McKay. Quiet." John snapped before another guard jabbed him in the gut with the butt end of his stunner. He fell to his knees with a pained grunt and forced himself to pull in a breath of air. He coughed once and slowly stood.

The three Wraith standing between John's team and the table stepped aside as the tattooed Wraith, _Harry,_ John decided, appeared, seemingly from nowhere and walked out of the shadows. He stopped next to the table and looked at one of the guards, who roughly grabbed Teyla and hauled her towards him.

"Teyla!" John lunged towards her. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ronon do the same.

Searing pain shot through his shoulders as one of the guards grabbed him and forced him to his knees. He struggled briefly, determined to get free, but his captors held fast. Helpless, he could only watch Teyla, who fought in the grasp of one of the guards, as Harry walked up and jabbed some sort of syringe in her neck.

Instantly, she collapsed, her body limp in the grasp of the Wraith. Wasting no time, the male ripped her shirt off, leaving her only in the sports bra she wore beneath it. As the guard lifted her and dropped her on her chest on the table, John caught sight of her wide and fearful look: she was still conscious. As the guard held her steady on the table, John locked gazes with her. There was nothing he could do to help her, or any of them, but at least he could silently be there for her. He held her attention and added a strong note of reassurance to his look.

"Transmitters," Ronon muttered, earning himself a shake from one of the two guards that held him on his knees.

John tore his eyes from Teyla's for a moment and watched as Harry implanted a device in her back. He tensed, his lips pressing in a thin line. Whatever plan they'd need to come up with to escape, just got a lot more complicated.

Harry backed away from Teyla and nodded to one of the guards who lifted her from the table and laid her down in the corner. John stared at her a moment, his eyes widening as movement already started returning to her legs, which she shifted weakly. He looked away… and directly into the gaze of Harry, who nodded once.

The guard holding John hauled him to his feet and wretched his arms behind him before marching him over to the table. In spite of the screaming pain from his shoulders, John clenched his teeth and glared at Harry who leered back.

"I have not seen such strength come though these halls in a very long time," he hissed quietly. "I look forward to seeing you in the Round." Lifting his hand, he jabbed a syringe into John's neck.

John gasped as his legs buckled and his entire body, from his neck down, went numb. He was powerless to do anything as the male ripped his shirt off and a Wraith guard lifted him onto the table. He caught sight of Rodney and silently reassured his friend as much as he could. His gaze shifted to Ronon who nodded, his eyes narrowing in hard acceptance. Their exchange was silent, but in his gut, John knew he and Ronon shared the same thought: They'd escape somehow, but they had to bide their time for the right opportunity.

The numbness in his body wasn't complete. While he didn't feel any pain, John could feel the movement of skin on his back and the insertion of the transmitter. He clenched his eyes shut, not from pain, but from a near desperate need to get away; to stop this from happening to him and to his team. But no matter how hard he struggled internally, his body refused to cooperate and in a dark moment, John felt he was getting a glimpse of what it was like to truly be paralyzed. Helpless, his mind raced. With transmitters, the Wraith could track any of them at any time. How would they escape? More to the point, how the hell would they get these things out of them so they could escape? His thoughts were derailed as two guards roughly lifted him from the table and drug him to the same corner Teyla already laid in. Powerless to catch himself, John winced as the guards let go of his arms and he flopped unceremoniously to the floor.

He turned his head and looked at Teyla who stared silently back at him. He swallowed hard, his brows furrowing in concern, but her expression turned reassuring as she moved her arms.

"I will be fine," she whispered.

John winced as a tingling burn started in his legs, before his left knee twitched. Grunting, he bent the joint slowly, before moving his other leg. Whatever the Wraith had given them, wore off damn quick, as he could already feel sensations returning to his entire body.

He looked over in time to see Ronon thrown on the table and implanted with a transmitter of his own. John watched as the Wraith adjusted the cutting device and resealed the hole in Ronon's back. He thought for a moment, before cautiously rolling his shoulders, but instead of being met with the pain he'd expect from a fresh wound, he felt only a slight stiffness. His brows quirked. The Ancients weren't the only ones with advanced medical technology…

"No… I mean it isn't necessary…" Rodney's protests were cut off by grunt as one of the guards grabbed the back of his neck, silencing him. Before long, Rodney laid next to them, his eyes holding a barely concealed panic. "What the hell are we going to do now?" he whispered, earning himself a kick from one of the guards.

His legs nearly completely functional again, John lunged at the offending guard and found himself staring at the end of a stun rifle.

"You will learn the ways of the Round," Harry walked up behind his guards. He stared coldly at John. "I may not kill you, but I will do things that will make you wish you were dead."

John glared back. Deep inside, in that place that harbored the instincts that had saved his life many times before, he knew Harry wasn't bluffing.

After a moment, Harry stepped back and waved casually at John and his team. "Take them to the Pit."


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for all the great and encouraging reviews! I'm glad your interests are piqued by this concept... mine too. LOL ;)_

Concern wormed its way into Elizabeth's thoughts as she lifted her head and turned in her chair towards the inactive gate. John and his team had been due to check in almost a half hour ago. Off-world, John was never casual on protocols; he always checked in on time, so as the thirty minute mark approached, Elizabeth gave in to her concerns. Pushing away from her desk, she strode out into Ops and stopped in front of Chuck. "Any word from Colonel Sheppard's team?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

Chuck shook his head. "No. Nothing." "Dial the planet," she ordered almost immediately and turned, walking over to the balcony's railing. She watched as the wormhole flushed into existence before tapping her headset. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Weir, do you copy?" She waited a tense moment, before looking at Chuck who shrugged.

"Transmission is getting through, ma'am," he responded.

Elizabeth nodded. "Colonel Sheppard, please respond." As silence greeted her inquiry she shook her head. She locked gazes with Chuck. "Have Major Lorne report to Ops immediately."

"Yes, ma'am," Chuck turned and activated the city wide communications system before hailing the Major.

Elizabeth stared at the active wormhole. _John… what's going on?_ The colonel's lack of response did nothing to comfort her and deep inside she knew, without a doubt, that something was wrong.

Within a few minutes, Major Lorne appeared at her side. "Ma'am?"

She turned a serious expression on him. "Major, Colonel Sheppard's team missed a check in and is not responding to hails."

Lorne nodded. "Do we have MALP telemetry?"

Elizabeth looked back at Chuck who nodded. "Stand by," he responded, "pulling up the MALP's camera now."

Shoulder to shoulder with Lorne, Elizabeth started at the large display screen. She squinted at the empty and apparently serene field that greeted her gaze. "Everything looks normal."

Lorne nodded. "Yes, ma'am, at least as far as the MALP can see." Lorne straightened. "Permission to take a team though the gate to find Colonel Sheppard?"

Elizabeth sighed. Just because they couldn't see anything threatening, didn't mean it wasn't there. Sheppard's failure to respond only confirmed that suspicion.

"Ma'am," Lorne said quietly, "Colonel Sheppard and his team could be in trouble. I'm willing to take the risk, and I know my team feels the same way." Lorne took one step closer to her. "Let us go," he said quietly.

Elizabeth sighed before looking at him and nodding slightly. She watched as Lorne briskly headed for the back stairs and disappeared, hoping she hadn't condemned him to the same, uncertain, fate.

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John stepped through the wormhole and into bright, hot, sunshine. He inhaled, his nose wrinkling at the arid breath of desert air. Around him, sand dunes lined the narrow path they followed towards a massive, domed structure situated not far from the gate. "Hot," John commented absently, earning himself a warning grunt from one of the guards. He glared back for a moment before falling silent.

They entered a massive archway and John's eyes narrowed at the sight that met his gaze. Laid out before him was a huge, sanded arena. Elevated above it were scattered seats but nothing like what the Romans called a coliseum. While the structure was easily big enough to accommodate thousands, there were only a handful of seats carved out of sheer stone walls. As John thought about things, it made sense though. Most Wraith were the seemingly mindless soldiers; worker ants, who just did the bidding of the others. Surprisingly few Wraith were actually fully sentient beings… at least it seemed that way from the intelligence they'd managed to gather so far, and even less of those had actual clout and influence. If all they needed was to accommodate an alliance of queens and their close advisors, no more was needed. John's thoughts were interrupted by one of the guards who shoved him roughly with the butt end of his stunner. John staggered before turning left.

Lined along the wall of the structure were a series of cells, constructed of the same webbed material they'd see before on hive ships. Each contained a small number of humans; men and women of all different sizes and colors, each of them wearing expressions varying from hopelessness to guarded defensiveness. The prisoners stared at him and his group as they were led down an aisle way in front of the cells. The Wraith stopped in front of one cell and silently commanded the door to open, before the guards shoved John and his team in and closed the door.

John spared a moment to glare at the retreating backs of the Wraith, before he looked around at the cell's occupants. Unmoving, ten sets of eyes stared back at him. "Uhh.. hi." His roaming gaze fixed on one man who stepped forward.

About the same height as John, but of darker skin, the man sauntered up to the team. A patch covered his left eye, but his right eye narrowed and he stood toe to toe with John, as if measuring him up.

Holding his gaze even, John returned the look. He'd seen men like this before; strong both of physically and mentally and always looking for those traits in other people. John's instincts left him with no doubt that this man was dangerous, but he wasn't sure of his intentions and wouldn't act until he knew. Just because he was dangerous, didn't make him bad. Hell, Ronon was living proof of that. He quirked a brow. "Name's John."

The man grunted quietly, before looking past John, his gaze fixing on Teyla. A subtle, but leering, smile turned up one side of his mouth.

John could feel the tension from Teyla as the man took a step towards her. Instantly, John blocked his path, his expression unwavering. "Don't think so."

The patched man returned his gaze to John. "Women like her do not last long here… unless they earn the right to stay alive… and untouched." He looked back at Teyla. "She's soft and warm," he leered, "and many of us have been here a long time."

"Lay one hand on her and I'll rip your heart out with my bare hands," Ronon interjected as he stepped up shoulder to shoulder with John.

John glanced at Ronon out of the corner of his eye for a moment before looking the other direction as Rodney quietly joined them, forming a line in front of Teyla.

The man's gaze shifted to Ronon. "You can't protect her forever," he stated plainly.

Ronon moved one step closer to him. "Is that a challenge?"

"While I welcome the assistance," Teyla interrupted as she walked around Rodney, "do not fool yourself into believing that I cannot take care of myself." Though significantly shorter than the man, she still glared at him confidently.

His chortle at her statement was quiet before he looked back at John. "You lead them." His statement held no note of questioning.

John quirked one brow. "Yeah, I do. And if you want to be alpha male in some damned pissing match that fine with me. I really don't care. You leave my people alone, we leave you alone. Simple as that." He fought a wince as the man – John decided Patch was as good a name as any - leaned in closer, his breath putrid.

"We'll see."

John deepened his glare, mentally boring a hole through the man's head. "Yeah," he answered quietly, "we will."

Patch stared at him a moment longer before turning and walking back to a corner of the cell. A few other men milled around him, their voices hushed. John's eyes left him and settled on two women sitting behind the group of men, their eyes downcast and body language shouting of defeat. He didn't need to talk to them to know that somehow, they belonged to Patch and his boys, in more ways than one. A glimmer of sympathy passed through John before he smothered it. As much as he wanted to help, three years in this galaxy had taught him that he can't help everyone. It was a realization that would've wrecked havoc on his sanity, if he hadn't found a way, a long time ago, to focus on his team's well being. For anyone else, he'd help where he could, but for his team, he'd always be there. That compromise helped him sleep at night in a galaxy that was imperfect at best. _But if they try something while I'm around…_ He amended his stance slightly.

John tore his eyes from the two women and turned away, leading his team to a vacant corner opposite of Patch's group.

John eased himself down to the dirty floor and leaned against the wall. His gaze briefly met Teyla's and she nodded slightly in gratitude.

"What now?" Rodney whispered loudly.

John sighed and exchanged grim looks with Ronon. "Well, we're imprisoned and cut off from the gate, waiting to be pulled into the Round to fight. Atlantis has no idea where we are and God knows where our GDOs are anyways even if we could get to the gate in the first place."

"You forgot the transmitters in our backs," Rodney hissed. "You're not exactly garnering confidence here…"

John's quiet chortle was dark and cynical. "First things first. We need some sort of plan to get out of here and then we need to find a way to get rid of these transmitters so we can move undetected and not have the Wraith follow us off world. Without GDO's we can't gate directly to Atlantis, but we'll gate to New Athos. From there we can radio Atlantis and use one of the Athosian IDCs."

"Oh, is that all?" Rodney snapped. "You do realize you're making an anthill out of a mountain here?"

John stopped short of a reply as he caught sight of Ronon's glower; fixed on Patch. He sighed quietly recognizing the look. "Leave it alone, big guy."

Ronon's eyes slowly moved to meet John's. "All I need is one shot." A dark, almost eager half smile flashed over his face.

"No." John's eyes narrowed. "You're not gonna do a damn thing unless you have to."

"He won't lay a hand on me," Ronon objected confidently.

"I'd rather not have to prove that point," John added an extra note of firmness to his voice. "Look, in order to get out of here, we're all going to need to be mobile and healthy. No unnecessary risks," he pointed at Ronon for emphasis. "I mean it."

Ronon stared hard at John for a moment. "If he tries something…"

"All bets are off," John finished with a nod.

"You better be ready to defend that."

The voice surprised him and John turned, his gaze meeting one of a woman in the next cell. Her clothing, like everyone else's was tattered but from the direct look she gave him, John didn't doubt for a second she was strong and capable. The Round notwithstanding, with characters like Patch around, she'd have to be.

"Still," she continued, "I'm sure the woman," she inclined her head in Teyla's direction, "appreciates it. She'll need all the help she can get against those men."

Her shoulder length hair could be brown or black; with the dirt he couldn't tell, but she carried herself with an air of confidence. "Della," she said, pointing to herself.

John's expression was guarded but he answered her none the less. "John." He gestured at each of his teammates. "Ronon, Teyla and Rodney."

Della's gaze narrowed. "I've seen a few like you come through here." Her gaze flicked momentarily to Patch before returning to John. "You had better be always be alert with him," she nodded in Patch's direction, "around." "The women with him," Teyla asked quietly, "they are…" "Gifts," Della answered. "The one with the eye patch: he is good in the Round… very good. The Wraith reward him with the women. They'll be with him and his boys tonight and the Wraith will take them away tomorrow." She guffawed cynically. "Their absence gives those boys incentive to fight better… they fight well, the women are brought back." She waved absently. "The women are not fighters. They stand no chance against him." She looked down a second before once more meeting John's gaze. "He easily has his way with them."

"Oh my god," Rodney muttered.

John's gaze narrowed. "Not while I'm around," he answered with conviction. There were many things he'd let go, but rape wasn't one of them.

Della's eyebrows quirked. "You say that now, but after fighting in the Round again… and again, you will soon only have the strength, or the desire, to care for yourself."

"Don't be so sure," Ronon answered.

A dark, half smile crossed Della's face. "I am only sure from experience," she answered. "The food is scarce and the fights are long and many. It will take all of your strength to survive."

"Do you fight, Della?" Teyla asked.

Della nodded once. "Yes." Her gaze hardened. "I am no man's gift and those that have tried, have paid dearly for their misconception."

Something akin of respect crossed Teyla's expression and she nodded. "Then we have much in common."

"Tell me about the Round," John asked. He had to know what his people were up against and he needed to know now.

"It is physical combat," Della answered. "The queens of this alliance enjoy watching us fight each other. Sometimes the duels are to the death, but it is uncommon for the Wraith to order it. They do not believe in wasting such a ready food supply," she added sarcastically, "although they will not move to stop such fights from happening. Many a hate between two fighters has been settled in the Round." She took a deep breath. "Mortal injuries are common and the victims are fed upon before they die so as not to waste their lives… as are those who suffer crippling injuries that rob them of the ability to fight." Her gaze narrowed. "If you wish to survive, you must not only stay alive in a fight, but you must avoid serious injury as well, which will prove to be very difficult," she stated, matter-of-factly. "Look around you, John. There are no injured fighters."

"What do we fight with?" Ronon questioned. "Knives? Swords?"

"Both," Della answered, "amongst other things such as staffs, nets and maces. If you have not fought with such weapons before, then I sincerely hope you are fast learners, for there are no practice spars. You either fight, or you are defeated; uninjured if you're lucky. If you do not fight well, the Wraith will often feed upon you." Her tone turned cynical. "They demand the fights be of quality. Those that cannot fight, or will not fight, do not live for a second chance or to reconsider their decision."

"Great." John felt Ronon's eyes on him and he met the Satedan's gaze.

"Sheppard?"

"John sighed. "I'll figure it out… if I have to."

"This is so not good," Rodney lamented. "Have you ever picked up a sword in your life?"

"No," John shrugged, "but give me a knife or sticks and I'll do pretty good." He straightened slightly. "Why do you think I've been sparring with you two?" He looked first to Ronon then Teyla.

Ronon chuckled quietly.

"You do not get your choice of weapons, John," Della continued, "at least not at first. Those who have proven themselves are allotted that one luxury. The rest of us fight with whatever we're given… whatever strikes the queens' fancies."

"Doesn't matter what you give me, I'll fight with it." Ronon answered resolutely. "Weapons don't matter half as much as who's wielding them." Della's mouth slowly turned up in a respectful smile. "Well said."

John looked away, unable to ignore the nervous knot in his stomach. He was a modern soldier, trained to use modern weapons. Sure, hand to hand combat and self defense with a knife were still basics every soldier learned and he was pretty advanced in his training but swords? Maces? Nets? He had no doubt Teyla and Ronon would do fine; they were right in their element. Give Teyla a staff and she'd mop the Round with just about anyone that confronted her. Same with Ronon but him? John let his anger at the Wraith permeate his body and drive away the doubt. He'd find a way to fight. _Looks like the sparring sessions are going to come in handy…._

"Sheppard."

Ronon's quiet voice pulled him from his thoughts and he looked up as four guards and Harry walked towards their cell.

"They don't waste any time," Della muttered. "At least one of you fights. Now."

John and his team stood as Harry ordered the cell door open. He spared a quick glance at Patch who kept his distance from the Wraith, eyeing it with silent rage before John looked back at the male who leered at him.

"When we are ready, take the woman and the Runner," Harry said confidently and turned. "Along with those two," he gestured at two men in the next cell, before he turned and walked away, leaving the guards in his stead. John quickly assessed the two opponents chosen for his people's fight. They were lean and tall, both showing hints of agility and strength. "Damn it," he muttered.

Rodney edged up beside John. "There's got to be something we can do." "I'm open to suggestions," he answered with a frustrated sigh.

"Best news I've heard all day," Ronon quipped darkly as he fixed an eager and but cold smile on his opponents who stared silently back.

"Not me," John groused. But before he could say anymore, one of the guards grunted and pointed his stunners at them. Before either Teyla or Ronon could move, John stepped in front of them and fixed both of them with an intense stare. "Look, I'm not crazy about the idea of killing or wounding anyone in the Round. We're all in the same boat here, but," he lowered his voice, "I want the two of you back here alive and uninjured. That's an order. Do whatever you have to do to follow it." John looked first to Ronon, who still held the confident, but dark look he seemed to carry into every battle, before switching his gaze to Teyla who held tightly to a resolute, strong expression. John pulled in one, deep frustrated breath as his mind raced, searching for some way to get his people out of this, but he found none.

"It is all right, John," Teyla reassured. "We will be fine."

"Walk in the park," Ronon commented.

John shook his head in dark humor. "You've watched too many movies." He jumped slightly as the guard rapped his stunner on the cell and grunted again. Slowly, John stepped aside watching as Ronon and Teyla, along with their opponents, were led to the Round.


	3. Chapter 3

Elizabeth never left Ops as she waited for Lorne's team to check in, so when the gate activated and Lorne's hail came through, she immediately answered. "Major? What's the situation?"

"Ma'am," Lorne's voice was solemn. "The planet's been culled. My guess is the Colonel's team walked smack dab into it and couldn't get away. There's no sign of them beyond a concentration of P-90 shell casings in the woods not far from here. They made a hell of a stand but…"

Elizabeth closed her eyes, fighting the numbing shock that threatened to overwhelm her before nodding once. "Understood, Major," she forced strength into her voice, "return home." "Yes ma'am," Lorne agreed quietly. "Lorne out."

Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth walked to the balcony overlooking the Gate Room. She grabbed the railing and squeezed hard as she fought to compose herself. After several moments and when she was sure she was in complete control she turned, briskly walking back to Ops. "Chuck," she ordered. "I want word sent out to all our off world contacts to be listening for anything about Colonel Sheppard's team." She sighed. "I know it's a long shot, but right now, I'll take any shot we can get."

Chuck nodded and started typing a series of commands on his laptop.

"Have Major Lorne come to my office as soon as he's back." She turned away, barely hearing Chuck's acknowledgment, as she retreated to the privacy she needed, if only to sort her thoughts.

-----------------------------

Even through the soles of his thick shoes, Ronon could feel the hot sand below him. A single bead of sweat trickled down his back, but he ignored it, focusing on the arena, his opponents and even Teyla. He'd seen Teyla fight enough times to know she was more than capable, but he'd watch out for her anyway. It was in his nature. She was his team mate and his friend, and that was all Ronon needed. He looked sideways, glaring dangerously at one of several guards waiting silently in the arena, their hands laden with weapons as he and Teyla and their opponents were led further into the arena. Slowly, he looked up, letting the burning hate in his gut flow through his eyes as he fixed his gaze on four queens and several males that looked on.

One queen, tall with long red hair stood and stared down at him. "Runner," she hissed.

Ronon's lips curled back in a sneer but he never broke gazes with her.

After a moment, the queen looked at one of the guards and snarled. Silently commanded, the guard stepped forward and dropped two staffs and two swords in the sand between the two sets of opponents.

Ronon spared a quick glance at Teyla who stood next to him. "Staff or sword?" he muttered, pretty sure what her answer would be.

"Staff," she whispered.

"Fight!" The queen demanded.

Ronon jumped as their opponents sprang into action. With a shout, he leapt of the first, landing a staggering blow to the side of the man's head. Wasting no time, Ronon grabbed a sword and swung it at the other man, who lifted his own sword and deflected the shot. From the corner of his eye, he saw Teyla grab a staff and dodge the blow of the other man before she expertly passed the staff behind her back and faced off against him. Ronon refocused his attention on his own opponent. They slowly circled as if measuring each other's strengths and weaknesses.

Suddenly, his opponent launched a flurry of blows. Ronon easily parried each one before spinning and grazing the man's upper arm with his blade, leaving a line of blood behind.

The man looked at his arm for a moment, before returning his gaze to Ronon who smiled confidently. Ronon twirled his sword in one hand and circled his opponent again. Over the man's shoulder, he saw Teyla backpedaling as she parried a series of blows from her opponent. Ronon clenched his jaw and forced himself to focus on his fight and the hard swing of the sword his opponent unleashed. Parrying the blow, Ronon twisted his sword and landed a kick to the man's stomach before pushing away from him. Ronon raised his sword to finish the fight, but to his surprise, the man met his blow with a solid defense. Ronon retreated slightly and reconsidered his tactics. Again he caught sight of Teyla just in time to see her land a vicious blow to the side of her opponent's head, knocking him to the ground where he remained motionless. She moved Ronon's direction, only to be stopped by three guards and their stunners.

"Your woman can not help you," Ronon's opponent leered.

"Don't need anyone's help," Ronon rebuffed. To prove his point, he lashed out, landing a series of staggering blows on his opponent's sword, soundly breaking down his defenses. With a shout, he stepped inside the man's defense and grabbed his arm, deftly disarming him. Holding his sword tip to the man's throat, Ronon panted hard and glared at him for a moment, before lowering his sword. Faced by a half dozen stunners, Ronon begrudgingly dropped his weapon.

"Take them away," one queen ordered.

Ronon fell in step next to Teyla as they were escorted from the arena. "You all right?" he panted slightly.

"I am fine," she answered with a small smile. "He proved somewhat difficult, but I have faced worse."

"Yeah," Ronon nodded. "Felt like we were being judged. Warm up spar."

Teyla nodded. "If that was a warm up, then we have many difficult fights ahead of us."

He looked away from her, meeting Sheppard's concerned gaze as they approached the cell. "Not if we get out of her first," he muttered. The colonel backed away just enough to let them enter before stepping up close to both of them, his expression intense.

"You two okay?" Sheppard looked first at Ronon then Teyla.

Ronon smiled slightly at the concern in his friend's expression. "I'm good."

"As am I," Teyla smiled. "I believe we were being tested… our abilities measured for future fights."

Sheppard's gaze narrowed slightly. "It didn't look easy…"

"It was not," Teyla answered flatly, "but I feel as if it could've been much more difficult."

"That is **so** not reassuring," Rodney lamented quietly.

"NO!"

The choked cry grabbed Ronon's attention and he spun, his team mates doing the same. At the entrance to the arena, one of their opponents, the one Teyla had dispatched, was on his knees in front of one of the queens.

"You have lost," she snarled, "and in such a disappointing way…" Without warning, she slammed her hand into his chest and fed upon him.

From the corner of his eye, Ronon could see McKay look away but on his other side, he could feel the burning intensity and rage of Sheppard's expression. Ronon glowered, watching… seething, as the queen stole every scrap of life from the man, before casually walking away, leaving his withered husk behind. Ronon slowly turned his head and met eyes with Sheppard. Both men were silent in their rage. Without a word, Sheppard turned away.

----------------------------------

Elizabeth's gaze left the Stargate and settled on Lorne's face, reflected in the glass of her office window, as stood silently in her doorway. She took a deep breath, turned and faced him before gesturing at the chair in front of her desk. "Major." She sat as Lorne did the same. Elizabeth stared at the grim expression on his face for a moment, before speaking. "We're passing word on to all our off world contacts. Maybe that will turn up a lead."

Lorne nodded slightly. He glanced away a moment before fixing her with a solemn look. "It's a big galaxy, ma'am."

Elizabeth resisted the urge to be irritated at his comment. He was right, and she knew without a doubt that he wanted to find Sheppard's team as much as she did. She smiled thinly. "I know, Major, but right now, it's our only chance." Her gaze moved past Lorne to the tall man who had somehow appeared in her doorway. Not that his presence surprised her, he'd only just come through the gate from New Athos. She nodded once. "Halling."

Halling returned the gesture. "Dr. Weir. I have been informed that Colonel Sheppard's team is missing, presumably taken by the Wraith?"

Elizabeth nodded. With Teyla being on Colonel Sheppard's team, she had always made it a priority to make sure the Athosians knew if something had happened to their leader. This time was no exception. "We haven't given up on finding them."

A faint smile creased Halling's eyes. "I would expect nothing else." He walked further into her office. "There is someone; a trading contact, that might know something." He sighed. "It is a remote possibility at best."

Elizabeth's gaze narrowed. "Someone besides our normal contacts?"

Halling nodded. "Yes. She is not one of our normal sources of information, as it is not her wish to be so. But, in this case, I believe she would help. She has a long history of trading with both Teyla and Tagon before her."

Elizabeth hesitated. She didn't like going outside their established contacts; people she knew they could trust, but then again, she trusted Halling and he must trust this woman enough to have mentioned her.

As if he read her mind, Halling spoke again. "We can trust her, Dr. Weir. She trades with many people from numerous worlds and has done so for a very long time. Because of this, she knows a great many things that the rest of us do not."

Elizabeth turned her gaze to Lorne who nodded slightly. She looked back at Halling. "Where can we find her?"

Halling seemed to relax slightly. "She has a small, trading shop in a village on Medarka. I have not seen her in a few seasons, but she will remember me."

"Ma'am," Lorne sat straighter in his chair, "permission to accompany Halling?"

This time, Elizabeth managed a true, if small, smile. "I was just going to ask you to go, Major."

"I would suggest native clothing, perhaps something my people can supply," Halling interjected. "And I would ask that only Major Lorne accompany me and not his whole team. A group is likely to draw attention where two men would not. It would be best to be inconspicuous. We do not know the eyes that might be watching."

Silently, Elizabeth turned a questioning look on Lorne who nodded.

"I can do inconspicuous."

"All right, Major… Halling," Elizabeth pushed back from her desk and stood. "As soon as you have the appropriate clothing, you have a go. Be careful, both of you."

------------------------------------

John stared at the back wall of their cell, pointedly ignoring the other prisoners. He'd never felt as helpless as when he watched Ronon and Teyla fight when all he could do was hope they'd be okay. Then, to see one of the losers fed upon… what if one of his people lost? If the queens decided they didn't fight well? Would he be forced to watch his team mates die? John drew in a loud breath and shook of the thought. He looked to his right as Rodney walked up next to him. John's gaze narrowed at his friend's downcast look. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

Rodney swallowed. "I… Well, I wanted to say… that is… I'm sorry."

John turned to face him. "What for?"

Rodney shrugged. "We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me. I mean… you wouldn't have had to bargain… give in to him…"

John shook his head. "McKay stop," he ordered firmly. As Rodney fell into silence, John locked gazes with him. "Somehow, I think the alternative would've been far less pleasant." He arched a brow at Rodney's questioning gaze. "You really think the Wraith would've just let us go?" His second brow joined the first as comprehension dawned on Rodney's face. John nodded slightly as Rodney drew the same conclusion: They would've all been Wraith entrées by now. "At least this way, we have a fighting chance to escape. Just need to figure out how, that's all." He looked past Rodney to Patch, who was silently glaring at him. "And survive a couple other details," he added quietly.

"Yeah, been thinkin' about that," Rodney recovered enough to start speaking again. He paused, waiting as Ronon and Teyla walked up and joined them. "The transmitters in our backs. I don't think they're subspace. Probably have a range limited to the planet at the most."

John frowned. "How do you figure that?"

"Well," Rodney shrugged, "if you were these queens, would you want to broadcast this cute setup to every Wraith in the galaxy?"

John thought for a second before nodding. "Good point." He lowered his voice to almost a whisper. "You think if we can get through the gate, we'll be in the clear?"

"There's an excellent chance, yes," Rodney answered.

"Still have to get to the gate," Ronon interjected.

John grimaced. "There is that…. Besides," he whispered, "I'm not letting any of us go back to Atlantis, or New Athos for that matter, as long as we have them. I won't risk blowing the city's cover or bringing the Wraith down on the Athosians, I don't care how slight the chance is."

Rodney looked on the verge of an objection before he sighed and nodded silently.

"John Sheppard."

John turned at Della's hail before following her gaze to the doorway and the four Wraith guards that approached, led by Harry. He stopped and stared coldly at John, his gaze eager. "You." Without another word he turned and walked away as three guards pointed stunners at him while one opened the door.

"Great," John muttered.

"If there's a staff, try for it," Ronon urged. "Your swordplay will get your ass kicked."

John arched a brow in dark amusement. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." He glared for a moment at Ronon who just shrugged. "What if it's only swords?"

Ronon's gaze narrowed. "Don't drop your shoulder," he answered quietly, reminding John of his single, worst fighting habit.

"Right," John sighed.

"Take care, Colonel," Teyla interjected.

John glanced at her and nodded before he took a deep breath and confidently walked from the cell. Nervous knots started in his gut as he walked down the long hallway towards the arena. He could feel adrenaline flood his body as the anticipation of the fight to come settled in. His senses sharpened, his heart rate and breathing quickened, his muscles tensed. A light sheen of sweat covered his brow as he walked into the hot arena and got the first look at his opponent.

The man was dark skinned, tall and muscular. The absence of a shirt showed the strength of his physique and while John was never embarrassed by his body, he felt slight in comparison. _Not good…._ He stopped about twenty feet away from the man and stared back, hoping his expression showed confidence. Swallowing hard, he pushed down his apprehension, replacing it with steeled resolve and the detached, instinct-driven mindset necessary in a fight.

"_Don't think of your weaknesses, only your opponents!"_

He'd heard those words, many times, in many different forms, throughout his military career. It was something fundamental in combat training… especially hand to hand fighting. He looked the man over, honestly wondering if such a person had any weaknesses, but immediately dismissed the thought. Everyone did and this guy was no exception. He just had to find them.

John could sense one of the queens walking towards them, Harry flanking her. Finally, he looked away from his opponent and glared at her.

Her pale skin was augmented by her white hair and her cold smile radiated delight. "Lantean," she said, without question.

John must not have been able to keep all the surprise from his expression because she nodded, her smile never fading.

"Oh yes, we know some of you survived. Your clothing and weapons are well known amongst our worshippers and you have been seen on many worlds." She confidently took a step closer to him, knowing without a doubt that with her mental powers, she was in no danger from him. "This is a pleasure." Her smile faded. "A hive of this alliance was destroyed by your people. The queen and many Wraith died." Her glare deepened. "And you will fight to redeem the lives of every one of them."

John clenched his jaw but remained silent as she backed a few steps away before turning and walking to her seat. Sitting next to the other queens she waved idly. "Fight."

John's head whipped back towards his opponent as they both tensed. A Wraith guard threw two staffs between them and John wasted no time lunging for one as his opponent reached for the other. Grabbing the staff, John backpedaled before finding his balance. He twirled the staff experimentally, testing its weight as he watched the man circle him. Suddenly, he was fighting to keep up his guard as a flurry of blows came at him. He managed to repel each and they both backed off, the spar a draw. Again, the man attacked and again, John repelled. So it continued, over and over. Fatigue started to worm its way into John's body and finally an unexpected blow caught him on the side of the mouth. John staggered but was still able to raise his defense and deflect another blow meant to finish him. He twisted his grip, stepped up and slammed the butt of his staff into his opponent's gut. The man danced away and coughed twice, before they again squared off.

John spat blood onto the sand and spared a hand to wipe the split lip he was sporting. For every step his opponent took to the left, John countered with one to the right and the two men circled, measuring each other's weaknesses. Never taking his eyes from the man, John considered his recent attacks. Every blow had been high…

"_No matter the size of your opponent, if you cripple him, he cannot fight." _

John resisted the urge to smile as Teyla's words echoed in his head. He waited, biding his time, until his opponent attacked again. John reflected each blow and found a rhythm to them; one he embraced, lulling his opponent into complacency.

_John staggered before looking up at Kelin. "How did you do that?" _

_Kelin smiled. "Rhythm is also a weakness, John. Never fall into a pattern."_

A small part of John's mind that wasn't occupied with fighting embraced the words of Teyla's mentor; a man that had taught him so much more than just fighting. Abruptly, he changed tactics and could sense the surprise in his opponent. Twisting his body, John spun and landed a crippling blow on the man's knee.

With a broken cry, his opponent fell to the sand. Wasting no time, John knocked the staff from his hands, planted a foot on his chest and held the end of his staff close to the man's throat. Part of him wanted to end it; to deliver a crushing blow to his opponent's throat and be done with it, but he refrained. He stared dispassionately at his opponent for a moment, before the true persona of John Sheppard once more took over, driving the dark and ruthless fighter back into its cage. John stepped back, lowering the staff. He dropped it unceremoniously on the sand and glared up at the queens for a moment, before he was surrounded by Wraith who escorted him from the arena.

Swallowing hard, he ignored the metallic taste of blood as he took in deep breaths, trying to will the adrenaline from his body; to hold his strength in reserve. He looked up, his gaze fixing on his caged team mates. _Save it.__Save it for escaping._ He vowed silently. He winced as, behind him, he heard the strangled cries of his opponent being fed upon. A crippling blow hadn't been his first choice, but had ended up being the only one. The only guarantee any of them had of survival was to win. Sure, they might be allowed to live if they lost, but John wasn't about to bet his life, or the lives of any of his team on that possibility. He'd known the blow would be a death sentence just as surely as a killing blow but where that would've risked retribution by the queens, this had been the safe out for him and in the end that absolutely had to be the only thing he could allow to matter. Just one more decision… one more ghost he'd live with.


	4. Chapter 4

_I am SO sorry for being so tardy to update! RL has been crazy then I was gone for a week to the Stargate Convention in Vancouver! (too much fun). Anyway, will try to get back on schedule here! ;) Hope someone out there is still interested in reading this! _

Somehow, even without a P-90, Lorne still felt comforted by the nine mil holstered securely under his arm and hidden by the waist length coat that he wore. Concealed, it met Halling's "inconspicuous" criteria, but still was readily available to the Major should things go south on this mission.

"It would be best to let me talk with Elena," Halling muttered as they approached a modest building on the outskirts of the village. "She knows me and therefore will trust you enough to speak in your presence, but I suspect the trust will end there."

Lorne nodded. "Yeah, no problem." He took a deep breath as he followed Halling into the building. It felt weird to be off world without his team, but he understood Halling's reasoning, even if he had to order and damn near hog tie his men to stay put. A bitter smile twitched one side of his mouth, if only briefly. Lorne had worked under the command of many men in his career, but none of them rivaled Colonel Sheppard in the intense loyalty he seemed to spark in the men under his command. But then again, the Colonel was very approachable, likeable, a hell of a natural leader, and regarded the lives and welfare of his people above anything else. Lorne had heard the words "never leave someone behind," many times, but Sheppard was the living embodiment of them. Pulling his thoughts back to the present Lorne focused his sights on an older woman. She stared at Halling, whose nod of recognition was deep.

Dismissing herself from the man she was speaking with, the woman slowly walked towards them. She looked to be in her sixties, and moved with a slight limp and stiffness.

Her eyes, deep set in weathered wrinkles were sharp and Lorne got the feeling that very little went unnoticed by her. She stopped before Halling and touched foreheads with him.

"Halling. It has been many seasons."

"Elena," Halling responded. "It gives me joy to see you well."

Elena laughed quietly. "Not as well as I used to be, but I manage." She stepped back from him and looked directly at Lorne.

"This is my friend," Halling gestured, "Lorne."

Elena nodded at him. "Lorne."

Lorne put on a friendly smile. "Ma'am."

"What brings you to Medarka?" She stared one more moment at Lorne before returning her gaze to Halling.

"We must speak with you, Elena," Halling lowered his voice. "It is a matter of great importance."

Almost immediately, Elena turned and gestured towards a small room in the back of the building. As they entered, she closed the door behind them. Walking back to Halling she stared him squarely in the eye. "Tell me what has happened."

Halling drew in a deep breath. "Teyla and some of Lorne's people have been taken by the Wraith."

Elena dropped her head. "That saddens me greatly for Teyla was an honorable friend, much as her father once was."

"We have not given up hope in finding them," Halling insisted quietly.

She looked up, her eyes full of sadness. "Your chances of that are slim, my friend."

"I know," Halling answered.

"And you came to me because you thought I might know something that would help you in your search?" Her words were a question, but her tone of voice was not.

"Yes," Halling admitted. "Elena, I would not have come to you, but…" he sighed. "This is not just Teyla, but also Lorne's people, who have proven themselves many times as true friends not only to the Athosian people, but to all the humans in this galaxy."

Lorne kept his gaze neutral as he returned the direct look she gave him. They stared at each other for a long moment, before she nodded.

"What world were they taken from?" She asked.

"I do not know the name, only the address," Halling responded.

Elena walked to a small table in the back of the room and grabbed a piece of yellowed parchment along with what looked like a crude form of a pencil. Halling followed her, took the pencil and quickly scribbled out the gate symbols.

Elena looked at the address for a moment before shaking her head. "I do not recognize this world, but I will place some discreet inquiries to see if I can find out anything for you." She looked away from the parchment and back at Halling. "How may I reach you?"

Lorne looked up at his tall companion who exchanged hesitant looks with him.

"Elena," Halling started before meeting her gaze again. "It is difficult to reach us, but we can return. You need only tell us when."

Her gaze narrowed for a minute, as if she was gauging his answer before she responded. "Two days time. By then if I do not have an answer for you, there is no answer I can find."

Halling bowed his head deeply at her. "Two days. My thanks to you, Elena."

She nodded back before stepping around them and returning to the common room.

Left alone, Lorne squinted at Halling. "Think she'll be able to help us?"

Halling's gaze was directed towards the common room, but his look was distant. "If anyone can find out what we need to know, Major, she can."

--

John stood quietly at the back of the cell, watching, his body taunt as a half dozen Wraith guards along with Harry, walked towards their cell.

"Great." McKay lamented quietly, "here we go again…"

John's nod was barely perceptible as his gaze never left Harry. The door to their cell opened and Harry spent a moment staring at John before he turned and pointed at Patch.

"You." Harry cocked his head. "My queen wishes to see you fight again."

John shifted his gaze from Harry to Patch. Seething hatred burned in Patch's one good eye as, surrounded by guards, he left the cell. Halfway down the hallway, Patch's entourage was joined by another group of guards with one more prisoner; Patch's opponent presumably.

John walked up to the cell bars, settled his arms on a horizontal branch and watched as the two opponents were led into the Round. "Interesting to see how this goes…" John commented absently.

"Do you believe he will win?" Teyla asked quietly.

John shrugged before his gaze narrowed. "Our lives would be a lot easier if he didn't."

"Do not count on that, John Sheppard." Della's voice interrupted John's thoughts and he turned his head towards her. He remembered her words of warning when they first arrived.

_The one with the eye patch: he is good in the Round… very good…. _

John slowly shook his head as he watched Patch's opponent take a sword and step back. Even from this distance, John could see the hesitation in the man's bearing. "Doesn't look good," he muttered.

"This won't take long," Ronon answered evenly, apparently observing the same thing. "Can't wait to meet this guy in the Round."

John never took his eyes from the Round. "I'm hoping to avoid that scenario…" his voice trailed off as Patch and his opponent traded blows before once again circling each other. John shook his head as Patch delivered a fast series of high and low shots before deftly disarming his opponent. With one, swift move, he ran the man through, killing him instantly.

"Son of a bitch," John muttered.

Patch spun towards the queens and stabbed his sword deep into the sand before letting go. Head held high, he glared defiantly at them.

One of the queens stood and hissed loudly at him before two guards roughly grabbed Patch and hauled him from the arena.

"That's living dangerously," John commented. "For all he knew, the queens would've killed him for that."

"Is that why you chose to cripple your opponent and not kill him, John Sheppard?" Della asked quietly.

Slowly, John turned his head towards her. He stared intently at her neutral expression for a moment, before returning his gaze to the Round as Patch was led back towards the cell. "Had to win. Didn't have a choice." He answered abruptly. "Wasn't going to risk their wrath by killing him."

"Well our buddy Patch doesn't seem to care," Rodney interjected.

"He does not." Della backed away from the cell crossbars. "I do not believe he cares if he lives or dies."

"Great," John sighed. "That makes him all the more dangerous."

"All the more reason for me to kill him," Ronon added.

"Not if we can avoid it." John flashed a warning glare in Ronon's direction. "Staying alive is our first priority."

As Patch was shoved into the cell, John subtly inched closer to Teyla, but Patch left them alone. He slid to the ground in the far corner without so much as a glance in their direction.

Commotion in the hallway grabbed John's attention and he turned, watching as a group of downtrodden humans, escorted by a group of Wraith guards, pushed several crude looking carts down the hallway. The first cart stopped in front of the first cell in the aisle while the rest waited behind. In almost a trained manner, the occupants pushed and shoved their way into a line, each receiving a crude bowl of something John wasn't relishing tasting and a cup of what he hoped was water. John's nose twitched as, even from a distance, he could smell the putrid food.

"That smells disgusting," Rodney whispered vehemently.

"It keeps you alive," Della answered. "The strong find a way to survive on what is given us. Beware of your cell mates. The strong always are first in line and receive the most food, the weakest last and least."

John nodded as the next food cart was taken to the next cell; the one right before theirs. "Let me guess: Patch is always first in line?"

"Yes," Della sighed. "He will not surrender that position easily."

John shrugged. "He wants to be first, that's fine. But, we'll be right behind him."

"Somehow, I don't think his friends are going to like that," Rodney snapped.

"Rodney is right, Colonel," Teyla interjected, "we will have to earn our position."

John shrugged. "If we do, we do. But if we're going to survive, we're going to need adequate food and water." He gave Teyla a determined look before glancing at Rodney and finally Ronon. "Whatever it takes," he finished quietly.

Warily, John walked towards the entrance, his team right behind him. As Della predicted, when their food cart arrived, Patch and his group pushed their way through the other prisoners right up to the entrance. John put on the strongest expression he had and returned Patch's glare. John held his ground as Patch walked up to the doorway, but when his cohorts tried to follow him, John and Ronon immediately blocked their path, Teyla right with them. The prisoners reacted exactly how he thought they would so John was ready when the first roundhouse punch came at him. Ducking, he avoided the blow before he doubled up his fist and punched his opponent as hard as he could, stunning him. Teyla dispatched another with a roundhouse kick, and Ronon practically threw his opponent into two more, sending them all staggering. Tense, John waited a moment, looking for any other prisoner to challenge them, but when none did, he motioned Rodney over to their group and turned back towards the food cart.

Standing silently nearby, bowl of food and cup of water in his hands, Patch watched them quietly, making no move to help his cronies. Silently, he turned and walked away. John stepped behind his team, letting them go first before he took his rations and followed them back to their corner of the large cell. As he carefully eased himself to the ground, John's gaze caught Della's.

"Well done," she said quietly, "they will not challenge you again… at least for a little while."

John took a small sip of his water and watched as the last in line received their food. True to Della's word, the last few prisoners in line received very little food or water. Dejected and obviously weak, they turned away hording their meager rations.

Steeling himself against the smell, John dipped his fingers into the brownish, gruel like substance and scooped some into his mouth. Next to him, Rodney did the same, only to cough and wince.

"I can't eat this," he said quietly.

"Yes, you can," John answered. "You have to."

"Right. Eat bugs, worms or whatever to live," Rodney snapped, "but I'm not military here!"

"McKay." John interrupted sternly. "Don't think about it. Just eat."

John glanced at Teyla who, eyes closed, was quickly eating her ration, then to Ronon who was eating quickly, his expression stoic. Taking a deep breath, John scoped more of the food into his mouth. He swallowed. "Eat, McKay." He repeated, his voice still stern.

"Right," Rodney answered before he turned back to his own food.

Looking for something to distract him and his team from their meal, John turned his attention to Della who returned to sit close by, her own ration in hand. "That was the third match today. Don't these queens have anything better to do?"

"The fighting comes and goes in spurts." Della answered as she ate. "The queens will order many matches then leave for days and weeks at a time before returning and ordering more."

"I don't get this alliance," Rodney interjected, "especially now, with their food shortage. They're way too suspicious to trust each other."

Della snorted. "They do not. There has been fighting and deaths, but these remaining queens are very strong in their own right. As long as the alliance benefits each of them, they will keep it. In my time here, two queens of this alliance have died. It is said one was killed by humans who were occupying the Ancestral city. The other was betrayed by these queens and killed."

John fought to keep his expression neutral at Della's mention of his people.

"Each one waiting for the others to fight," Rodney observed bitterly. "Even the victor would be weakened and the others would go in for the kill. As long as each one of them knows that, none of them will start a fight with the others. It's a stalemate."

John shook his head. "Interesting alliance." Setting aside his bowl, he downed there rest of his water and tried to relax, saving his strength.

With nothing else to say, Della turned away from them and slid to the back wall of her cell her attention turned to her ration.

John glanced around, reassuring himself that each of his team members, including Rodney, had finished their rations. He didn't have much to say, so he settled into a brooding silence as his mind worked over the task of finding a way to escape. In the back of his mind, he knew Elizabeth and the others would be looking for them, but they had no idea where in the galaxy to search. John signed quietly and looked up, meeting Teyla's penetrating and knowing gaze.

"We will find a way, Colonel," she said quietly.

--

Elizabeth met Lorne and Halling at the top of the gate room stairs. In spite of her solid and strong mask, she knew her voice still held a note of pleading. "Anything?"

"Elena asked us to return in two days time," Halling answered. "If she can secure any information for us, she will have done so by then."

Elizabeth resisted a frustrated sigh. "Two days?"

"There's still a chance, ma'am," Lorne added quietly. "At least there's a possibility she can help us."

Elizabeth nodded before smiling thinly at Halling. "Thank you."

Halling bowed his head. "Teyla is the leader of our people. There is nothing I would not do to bring her home." A slight smile turned up one corner of his normally stoic mouth. "And your people… you have done much for us, Dr. Weir. Any help that I can offer, I would gladly give."

Elizabeth's smile deepened slightly, as gratitude warmed it. Often times, she dwelled on all the problems they had and the mistakes and enemies they'd made, until there was no room left in her thoughts for the good they'd done and the allies they'd gained. Sometimes… sometimes she just needed a nudge; a reminder of the good things, their friends, and all the people they'd helped.

"We will find them, Dr. Weir," Halling added quietly. "I am sure of it."

Elizabeth nodded and held tightly to her determination. She glanced at Lorne, whose expression mirrored hers, before she looked back at Halling. "Yes, we will."

--

John sighed quietly as sleep eluded him. He was tired, bone tired but the hard wall, the stifling heat… the danger he could sense all around him, all of it kept him from sleeping. He turned his head slightly and met Ronon's quiet gaze. Somehow, John knew the big man wouldn't be sleeping either. He turned his head the other way and saw Rodney's half open eyes and while Teyla's eyes were closed, he suspected she wasn't asleep either.

A muffled sound from the other side of the cage caught his attention and he looked past Teyla to see Patch grab one of the women and all but throw her on the ground before he followed her down. It didn't take a genius to see what was coming. Without really thinking, John found himself on his feet, Ronon right next to him. They crossed half the distance of the cell before some of Patch's comrades stepped into their way. From the corner of his eye, John could see Ronon stop nose to nose with another prisoner while he focused his attention on the man in front of him. "Move," John's voice was low and full of the anger he felt in his gut but the man didn't budge.

John turned his head slightly and cocked a humorless brow at Ronon before he buried his fist in the man's gut. At the same time, Ronon floored the other man with a wicked right cross. But, John only got two steps before a blow across his cheek staggered him. Somehow he managed to duck the left hook that followed it and raised his fist, only to see the man go down from a leg sweep by Teyla. It all happened so fast that Patch barely had time to react, before John roughly kicked him off the woman and stepped on his arm, grinding his combat boot harder against the bone every time Patch flinched. After a couple of struggles, and a hard kick in the ribs, Patch gave in and stopped fighting.

"Bastard!" Patch gasped.

"Funny," John quipped darkly. "I was going to say the same thing." He glanced at Teyla, who helped the woman sit up and then at Ronon who held one of Patch's boys by the throat and half off the ground, all the while throwing the look of death at the others who apparently decided they didn't need to be crossing the big man at this particular moment.

"What now, hero?" Patch sneered.

"Dunno," John stepped down harder. "I haven't decided if I'm going to let you go… or break your arm just for spite." He ground Patch's arm in the hard ground for good measure, watching as Patch flinched and paled against the pain.

"Sheppard," Rodney's voice shook slightly and John turned to see five Wraith guards hurry towards the cell.

Slowly, John stepped back, letting Patch go as the guards entered the cell. Two pointed stunners at Ronon who still held fast to his victim. Ronon looked at John who nodded slowly, before throwing the man on the floor and backing up. The guards swiftly removed the women from the cell and left. John slowly looked back towards Patch, meeting his burning gaze with a spiteful one of his own. If they hadn't been on their guard before, they really were now. Patch wouldn't forget what happened and John knew he'd have to be doubly aware to protect his team whenever Patch decided to even the score. Part of John cursed himself for getting involved, but it was only a small part. There was no way he would've sat by and watched Patch force himself on the woman, no matter what the situation was.

"Thought you said no unnecessary risks," Ronon muttered.

John looked at his tall friend, reassured by the approving look in Ronon's eyes. He quirked a brow. "I changed my mind."

"You do realize he's not going to just let this go, don't you?" Rodney whispered.

"Didn't have a choice." John stared hard at Rodney, who looked away and silently nodded; his expression voicing his agreement, even if his voice didn't. As Patch turned away and joined his comrades, John leaned against the wall and slowly slid to the ground.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks for all the great reviews! I'm so glad people are enjoying this story, I'm having fun writing it. There are a couple spots in this chapter that refer to my story Demons, however, you don't have to read it in order to understand what is going on. They're nothing more then passing references, but if you have read Demons, you'll see them. ;)_

--

Lorne's arm unconsciously tightened against the nine mil secured under his shoulder as he and Halling walked into the dark building. A few people milled about but not nearly the number that would pass through Elena's shop as the day went on.

From her place behind a tall, wooden counter, Elena looked up and met eyes with Halling for a moment, before gesturing for them to approach. As they made their way across the room, she squeezed the shoulder of a young girl, presumably her assistant, and whispered in her ear before she walked towards the back room.

Wordlessly, Lorne and Halling followed. Lorne took a moment to look around, wary of even the few people in the shop. But, none seemed to take any interest in either of them, so he followed silently behind.

Elena waited for them to enter the room, before closing the door. She turned and faced them, her expression guarded. "I have some information for you. I am not sure how helpful it will be though."

Halling nodded. "Anything is better than the nothing we know now."

Elena sighed deeply. "Most of who trade with me are culled and despise the Wraith as we do. However, some that come through those doors worship them. I do not enjoy trade with such people, but many things they offer, my customers wish to purchase." She waved her hand absently. "When last we spoke, I knew one such person was due to visit again to trade. He arrived yesterday and I asked him about the planet Teyla was taken from." She paused and looked away for a moment.

"Elena?" Halling asked quietly.

"The planet is one of many that are in the territory of a great alliance of four queens. They have come together to pool their strength and are nearly uncontested in this galaxy." She walked closer to Halling. "According to my contact, not all the humans taken in cullings in the Alliance's territory are fed upon. It is said that some of the humans are taken… for sport."

Lorne squinted. "Runners?"

Elena shook her head. "No. These queens enjoy combat. The strong and resistant ones culled are made to fight each other for the queens' amusement."

"They put up one hell of a fight. If it was this Alliance that culled the planet…" Lorne's voice trailed off, his thought picked up by Halling.

"Then it is possible this was their fate." Halling's gaze narrowed. "But they would not fight each other."

"They do not have to," Elena answered. "Many humans are taken to fight. There will be no shortage of opponents."

Lorne's mind raced. Where was this planet? How could they find it? Was a rescue even feasible? He immediately dismissed the last question. Feasible or not, he wasn't going to leave their people to fight and die in some Wraith coliseum. "How can we find them?" he asked quietly.

Elena stared for a moment at him before answering. "I know of a planet where worshippers gather. It is possible you could obtain the address for this planet there." Her gaze narrowed. "But, have care. Worshippers are often fanatical in their devotion to the Wraith." She arched her brows briefly, as if the concept was so alien to her, she couldn't understand it. "If they find out your real intent…"

"We're willing to take that risk." Lorne interrupted softly but insistently.

Elena nodded back before handing him a worn piece of parchment with one gate address scrawled across it.

Lorne exchanged hopeful looks with Halling, before the Athosian man bowed his head deeply at Elena.

"My thanks for your help." Halling said.

Elena's smile was genuine. "The Athosians have always traded fairly with me." She turned her gaze on Lorne. "And the Lanteans are the best hope for all of us."

Lorne managed to keep the surprise from his face, if only barely. "Lanteans?"

Elena's friendly gaze turned knowing. "Be at peace, Lorne. Your secret is safe with me. Long ago I heard that the Athosians had allied themselves with humans who were occupying the Ancestral city. I have heard of its destruction but it still stands to reason that your people escaped… and I see that I am right." She stepped closer and took Lorne's hand. "Your struggles and triumphs against the Wraith have not gone unnoticed in this galaxy, Lorne, not just by the Wraith, but by all of us. I do this not only for Teyla, but also for your people."

Lorne stared at her for a moment before he tightened his grip around her hand. "Thank you."

Elena stepped back and released his hand. "Go now. If I can be of any further assistance, you have only to ask."

With one last nod to Elena, Halling led Lorne from the room. As they left the building, Lorne broached the question he knew both of them were thinking of. "Think Weir will go for it?"

Halling's gaze narrowed slightly. "I am going to this world, if it means a chance to find Teyla and the others."

Lorne nodded silently. Halling was free to do as he wanted. As they made their way back to the gate, Lorne wondered how the leader of Atlantis would react to sending people to a world full of Wraith worshippers.

--

There wasn't a spot on John's body that wasn't sore. Over the last two days, he'd sparred five times, three times barely beating his opponent and he had the sore ribs, cuts and contusions to show for it. Ronon and Teyla hadn't been spared either. He thought back to the queen's words the first time he'd sparred…

"_A hive of this alliance was destroyed by your people. The queen and many Wraith died, and you will fight to redeem the lives of every one of them."_

John sighed and swallowed against his dry throat. The food and water were sparse and he was starting to feel the effects of it. They were fed gruel once a day, with water coming twice a day and, in the last day, after each spar as well… but only to the victor. John pursed his lips. Not that the losers were allowed to live that often. In his five spars, three of his defeated opponents had been fed upon on the spot. As for other necessities, crude pots were supplied and everyone made do with little or no opportunity for privacy; something the Wraith didn't seem to care much about. John's nose wrinkled slightly. In this heat, it was unpleasant at best, but with the scare food and water, it seemed to suit their needs.

His gaze traveled across the cell and settled on Patch, who appeared to be dozing in the mid-afternoon heat. Not that he'd ever sleep well here in the first place, but constantly knowing that Patch would eventually try something in retribution, didn't help. He glanced at Rodney, who sat quietly brooding. He knew the doctor was carrying guilt over all of this, even if it was unfounded. He was spared the exertion of fighting in the Round, but that only served as a constant reminder of why the rest of them fought over and over again. John's brows furrowed as he tried to concentrate, his mind constantly turning over and dismissing one escape plan after another. "Gotta find a way out of here soon," he muttered.

"Without weapons," Teyla answered, "it is difficult to see how. There are many Wraith."

"There has to be a way," John insisted. In the back of his mind he heard Della's words; warning him that before long, he'd only have the strength to survive, not to escape, but he immediately dismissed the thought. He'd be damned if he and his people were doomed to die in this Wraith hell hole. "We just have to find it," he finished confidently.

"In the meantime, might I remind you that we still have these damn transmitters in our backs?" McKay interjected.

"Think I can help with that," Ronon looked around to make sure they weren't being watched before he smiled slightly and reached into his impressive mass of dreadlocks. He carefully and discretely pulled out a small, sheathed blade. "They didn't find one," he quirked his brows slightly before pulling the knife out of its sheath.

"Walking arsenal," John teased, but his voice was filled with respect. "Have any more of those around?"

Ronon shook his head. "No. Kept this one hidden, even in fights. Didn't want the Wraith to find it."

"You know," Rodney's voice was tinged with irritation, "you could let the rest of us in on these little secrets every once in a while."

Ronon kept his small smile. "Figured I'd say something when we needed it." He turned the blade slightly, letting the dim light catch its surface. "Good and sharp."

"Oh my God," Rodney's eyes widened as he jumped to the same conclusion Ronon had come to. "You can't be serious!" he hissed. "You want to cut these things out? With no Novocain? In this dirt bowl?"

John sighed, letting his gaze linger on the blade for another moment before he looked up at Rodney. "Don't see where we have much choice."

"We cannot escape with these transmitters still in our backs," Teyla added softly.

Rodney swallowed hard and after a moment, nodded. "Have I mentioned lately how much this entire situation just sucks?"

Ronon sheathed the knife and buried in his hair once again.

"First," John pulled his knees up and rested his arms on them. "We need an escape plan."

"Have anything in mind?" Ronon asked.

John's gaze narrowed. "Not yet, but I'm working on it."

--

Elizabeth found that she could no longer sit still in her chair as Lorne and Halling explained what Elena had told them. Wraith worshippers? After Sheppard's team was captured and escaped from the Wraith last year, she knew worshippers existed, but until now they'd never had to deal with them. She stood and paced slowly behind her desk, her arms crossed and unconsciously hugging her body. It wasn't the first time she'd had to deal with fanatics driven by some deep rooted religious belief, but she'd never been able to completely understand what drove people to be that way. One thing she did know was that fanatics were rash, unpredictable and dangerous.

"I will travel to this planet to try and find Teyla and Colonel Sheppard's team," Halling finished his debriefing.

"Request permission to accompany Halling, ma'am," Lorne immediately asked.

Forcing one hand to release the death hold she had on her arm, she rubbed her brow and sighed. "Gentlemen, I don't think I need to point out how potentially dangerous this could be."

"I will go," Halling answered resolutely, "no matter the danger. Teyla is the leader of my people and I believe that Colonel Sheppard would do the same, were our positions reversed."

Elizabeth turned towards the window and stared at the Stargate. She couldn't dispute with that logic and could picture John standing in her office, arguing until he was blue in the face, for even a slim chance to find anyone he cared about. A strained smile barely touched her mouth as she realized she never had a choice in the first place. This was something they had to do, no matter the danger.

"Ma'am, it really is the only shot we have." Lorne said quietly.

She let her gaze linger on the Stargate for one more moment before she turned and faced two expectant gazes. Seating herself behind her desk again, she folded her hands on the smooth surface and nodded. "How do you recommend we proceed, Major?"

Lorne seemed to relax slightly as he sat back in his chair. "As much as I'd love to take a team in there, grab people and demand to know where Colonel Sheppard's team is, it's probably best that Halling and I go in, undercover and see what we can find out."

"I agree," Halling nodded. "Just the two of us is far less conspicuous."

Halling pursed his lips and Elizabeth could see tension ripple through his body.

"We can go under the guise of being Wraith worshippers," Halling added quietly a note of contempt in his voice.

"Maybe we can get someone to trust us enough to give us some information," Lorne interjected. "It's a long shot, but right now the only one we have."

Elizabeth stared Halling in the eye for a moment noting the lingering tension in his body. He'd seen many of his people taken by the Wraith in his lifetime, including Tagon, Teyla's father and even his own wife. To masquerade as a Wraith worshipper… "Halling, I'm sorry it has to be this way."

Halling's eyes narrowed slightly in recognition, his nod barely perceptible. "There is no other way. I will not see Teyla or Colonel Sheppard's team die at the hands of the Wraith. Not if there is anything I can do to prevent it."

She nodded. "When will you be ready to leave?"

Lorne stood and brushed the front of his jacket; the same one he wore to Medarka. "I don't see any reason why we can't leave right away. The sooner we get there, the sooner we find out about our people."

Elizabeth nodded to her determined Major. "Go. Stay safe."

Lorne nodded back. "Yes, ma'am."

She watched as both men quickly walked through ops; Lorne ordering a technician to dial the gate. Turning she continued watching them as they descended the stairs, crossed the Gate room and disappeared through the wormhole. Even after the gate deactivated, she still stared at it, willing all her people to come home safely.

--

John's gaze narrowed as he watched the Wraith lay out what he could only call logs, around the Round. They weren't wood, rather they were made of whatever organic substance was used to make just about anything Wraith in origin. They were thick boles, at least a foot in diameter, curved and close to ten feet long. Laid end to end, they made a large, roughly circular perimeter.

"A Border Fight," Della seemed to sense his curiosity and walked up next to him. She looked at John through the crossbars that separated their cells. "The fighters must stay within the circle, or they are punished with stunners."

"Stunners?" Ronon asked as he walked up next to John, but it was John that beat Della to the answer. "How is stunning one of the fighters punishment?"

"Stunners have more than one setting," John said quietly as he was forced to relive memories. "They don't have to knock you cold. Some of the settings…" he drew in a deep breath, "are pretty painful." He glanced at Teyla and Rodney, who were silent, each of their expressions showing they knew he was speaking from experience.

"You have encountered this before?" Della asked.

John nodded slightly. "Couple years ago. Wraith used it to… interrogate me." He fixed his gaze on the Round, unable to make eye contact with anyone. It'd been two years, but the pain; the torture, were still as fresh in his memory as if it'd been yesterday. The Wraith male… the stunner… questions he wouldn't answer. John closed his eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath and changing the subject. "Wonder who they'll pick?" He glanced at Ronon, whose narrowed gaze showed that more emotion then John had wanted to show had been revealed anyway.

After a minute Ronon answered. "Hopefully, me."

John's expression turned cynical. "Should've expected that…" his voice trailed off as Harry and three guards walked towards their cell. Even before Harry could order it, John knew he was the target. Harry's gaze left no room for doubt. "Aw, hell…"

"You." Harry pointed at John. "And you." His point shifted to one of Patch's boys.

John took a moment to glare at his opponent, the very same man he'd leveled a couple days ago to earn their place in the food line. "Great," he muttered.

John took one step before being stopped by Ronon's hand on his forearm.

"Watch it," Ronon stared intently at John.

"Yeah, think this one has a grudge," McKay piped in.

"Definitely," John answered. He nodded once at each of them before following his opponent and the Wraith from the cell.

As he entered the Round, John felt the familiar surge of adrenaline course through him in response to what he knew was coming. He sent a spiteful glare over his right shoulder at the three queens in attendance before stepping over one of the borders and into the designated fight area. He looked around. The circle was roughly thirty feet in diameter and John quirked his brows. One thing was sure; they'd be fighting in pretty close quarters. He tensed as his opponent stepped into the circle before two Wraith guards dropped two sets of sticks, roughly resembling Athosian Bantos Rods, in the circle with them; one set behind each combatant.

Wasting no time, John leapt for his set of sticks, sensing that his opponent did the same. He spared a moment for relief that of the five, now six spars he'd fought, he'd never been forced to pick up a sword… yet. John grabbed the sticks, spun and faced off with his opponent. Scattered around the perimeter, Wraith guards, armed with stunners, waited for one of the combatants to step out of the circle.

John moved to his left as he twirled the sticks, casually testing their balance. Internally, he sighed as his opponent did the same, demonstrating with ease, that he had more than just a passing familiarity with this kind of weapon. Within John, all thoughts of a swift victory died. He looked past the disappointment, trying to identify weaknesses in his opponent, while doing his best to cover any that he might have. Suddenly, the man was driving him back with a flurry of blows that John struggled to repel. Like a gymnast on a floor routine, instinctively he could sense the barrier behind him, knowing he was close to stepping out of bounds. Slipping inside his opponent's guard, he sidestepped a blow and twisted left, barely avoiding the boundary in the process.

The man's calculated gaze narrowed as he realized he faced someone who also had skill. Cautiously, he circled right.

John circled left, keeping himself a fair distance from the man as he again looked for a weakness. Raising his sticks, he pressed an attack, driving his opponent back. Employing one of many moves Teyla taught him, John leveled a blow at the man's head, which he predictably parried. Abruptly, John twisted his wrist, throwing his weight behind the shift and pulling his opponent off balance. Wasting no time, John landed a solid kick to his mid-section, the force propelling the man out of the boundary.

His opponent made it to his knees, before a Wraith guard jabbed him in the back with a stunner.

John resisted the urge to wince as the man's scream echoed through the Round. The Wraith stepped back as the man struggled to his feet. Before he could fully gain his balance, the Wraith propelled him back into the circle.

John pushed aside all sympathy. He had to. It was the only way to survive. Before his opponent could recover, John pressed his attack, but was taken off guard as the man managed to not only raise a defense, but also struck a blow to John's upper left arm that left his hand numb. The stick slid uselessly from his left hand as he raised his right in defense but one handed, he was no match and suddenly, John found himself outside the circle. He rolled to his knees and braced himself, wrapping his emotions tightly in his anger and letting it steel his resolve as one of the Wraith guards descended on him.

Agony swept through him and with it, horrid memories that he'd worked hard to put behind him. Pain… his breath stolen from his body… A tormented scream was torn from his throat and it felt like an eternity before the pain ended. The Wraith hauled him to his feet and threw him back into the circle. John barely stayed on his feet and had no time to raise a defense as his opponent backhanded him viciously before bringing his sticks around to sweep John's legs out from under him.

John hit the ground hard, his momentum rolling him onto his stomach. Face down in the sand, John struggled to mount some sort of defense. He knew his opponent was closing in to finish this fight and he realized his life was now measure in minutes if he didn't do something. Dimly, he heard an angered shout coming from the direction of the Pit; the unmistakable voice of Ronon.

"SHEPPARD!"

_Damn it, Sheppard!_ John berated himself. _It's not going to end this way!_ Mustering all the strength he had, John rolled, letting his momentum carry into his leg. Combat boot struck soft flesh then hard bone. His opponent, bent over to finish the job, got a kick in the face for his effort.

Staggering, the man cried out in pain.

Feeling was only starting to come back to his left arm so John just grabbed one stick with his right hand and launched himself at his opponent. They went down in a tangle of arms and legs, but John rolled, managing to pin the man on his stomach. Reaching around from behind, John pulled the stick against the man's throat as hard as he could. Forcing his tingling left hand to comply, he slowly cut off his opponent's air. John clenched his teeth, holding onto his resolution as the man choked, his struggling turning feeble. John held on a moment longer, until a Wraith guard pointed his stunner at him and grunted.

Letting go of the stick, John rolled off him and lay in the sand, his chest heaving in exertion. He turned his head and looked at his opponent. Even though he'd been fighting for his life, in the back of his mind, John never lost touch with the reality of his situation. Killing anyone in the Round was still too risky and he had to avoid it at all costs. Yeah, he'd strangled his opponent, but only until the man was defeated, nothing more. John had no doubt he could've killed him and given different circumstances he probably would've. He turned his head again as a dark shadow descended over him.

Brandishing a stun rifle, one of the Wraith guards motioned at him, insisting that he stand up and John struggled to comply. On wobbly legs, he looked towards the queens, still managing to give them the look of death.

Slowly, the white haired queen stood. "Take him away, but bring me the loser."

John staggered a couple steps before two Wraith guards grabbed him and half dragged him from the Round. They stopped only long enough for one of the worker humans to hand him a cup of water, which he forced himself to drink slowly. He focused down on the cup and tuned out the scream coming from the Round as his opponent met his fate. The water was warm and stale, but it still revived him and as John proceeded to his cell, he managed to walk more than he was dragged.

The guards roughly shoved him into the cell and John would've taken a header had it not been for Ronon. He held tightly to the big man's arms and grunted, but Ronon's strong grip held fast. John managed to regain his balance and turned towards the back wall.

"God! I thought you were dead!" Rodney hovered nearby as did Teyla.

Slowly and with Ronon's help, John limped to the wall. He carefully lowered himself to the ground. "Thanks… for the vote of confidence… McKay," he grunted as he settled to the ground and leaned back against the cool stone.

"That's not what I meant…" Rodney stammered as he crouched in front of John and stared intently at him. "I just…"

"McKay," John interrupted. He locked gazes with Rodney for a moment and nodded once at the relief he saw in his friend's face. "I get it."

"Well fought, John," Della nodded at him through the bars. "He was undefeated." She looked away for a moment. "In a way, I am surprised the queens killed him. He was an exceptional fighter."

"You don't have to tell me that," John quipped weakly.

"Had me worried for a minute there," Ronon sat down next to John.

"I as well," Teyla smiled thinly at him.

"You're not the only ones," John answered. He closed his eyes and for a moment, he was content to just breathe, letting each inhale rejuvenate his body. Finally, he spoke again. "That was closer then I like." He flexed his left hand, relieved that the tingling was nearly gone and the feeling had returned. He twisted his arm and winced at the welt forming just below his shoulder.

"You're not hurt, are you?" Rodney asked, his eyes widening in concern.

John shook his head. "No. Not bad anyway. Just hit a nerve when he got that lucky shot on me. Hand was numb for a bit, but it's okay now." As if to prove his point, John flexed his fingers again.

"You displayed significant skill, John," Teyla smiled slightly.

John returned the expression. "I have you to thank… and Kelin," he added, naming Teyla's childhood tutor and his close friend. "And the fact that I was fighting for my life." He quirked his brows. "That tends to be a good motivator."

"Still," Teyla sighed, "the spars seem to be getting more difficult."

Silently, John just nodded in agreement. Inside he knew the clock was ticking. They had to find a way to escape and soon.


	6. Chapter 6

_The reviews have been lovely, thanks so much. I took a little time to finish this chapter, it kept expanding. LOL Hope you like it :D Thanks so much for the continued support. Its great to know people like what I write :)_

--

"Son of a bitch!" John spat, his face pressed to the prison cell bars as he watched Ronon stagger, backpedaling from his opponent and holding onto his side.

"He has been injured," Della's voice was quiet. "The last blow grazed his ribs."

"Damn it!" John shook the bars in frustration. So far they'd all been lucky to come out of their spars relatively unscathed. He'd known that sooner or later their luck would run out, but that didn't make this any easier.

"Ronon!" Teyla shouted.

Ronon's opponent, an impressively built man pressed his advantage, but Ronon was no easy target. Parrying a blow meant for his head, Ronon twisted, spun and slashed his sword across the man's abdomen.

The man cried out and fell to his knees. Even from a distance, John could see the depth of the wound as blood immediately flowed down the man's stomach. While not immediately lethal, the wound was still deadly. Without medical care, he'd bleed out and die.

Ronon stepped back and dropped the sword. He clutched one arm around his side, his chest heaving with exertion. Three Wraith guards pointed stunners at him and drove him from the arena as one of the queen's males descended on his defeated and dying opponent.

John's gaze never left Ronon as the big man was marched from the Round. This time, it was John's turn to catch Ronon as he was shoved hard into the cell. John took a step back and steadied his friend. "Easy." He looked at the wound, unconsciously clenching his jaw at the flecks of blood he could see above Ronon's arm. John pulled him towards the back of the cell. "Sit down. Let me see."

"Well, now isn't that interesting?"

John spared a moment to look up and follow the voice to Patch who stared back, a smug smile on his face.

"Not quite so tough now, are ya?"

Furious, John opened his mouth to reply, but Ronon beat him to it.

"I can still break your neck with my bear hands." Ronon pulled himself up straighter. "Come near me or my friends and I'll prove it."

Patch grunted. "Few days with an open wound and you won't be doing much of anything."

John held tightly to Ronon's arm and eased him to the ground before straightening and putting on the meanest glare he could find. "Come near any of us, and I'll kill you myself." He held onto his dark stare as Patch squinted slightly, seeming to measure him up. Without a word, Patch turned away.

John quickly knelt next to Ronon. He pulled at his friend's arm but Ronon's hand shot up, stopping John's. "It's fine. Not that deep."

John paused, looking Ronon over. Sweat beaded on his brow, and despite his warm complexion, he was pale. He stared into Ronon's dark eyes. "Yeah, right. Come on, let me see." John wrinkled his brow imploringly.

Ronon stared back for a moment, before he nodded slightly and moved his arm.

John winced at the bleeding slice crossing Ronon's ribcage. He probed it gently, grimacing at his friend's involuntary twitch.

Ronon groaned quietly before glaring at him.

"Sorry," John made brief eye contact and then returned his attention to the wound.

"How bad is it?" Rodney's voice was quietly concerned, a tone unusual for the acerbic doctor, as he knelt next to John. "Is he okay?"

John nodded. "It's not deep, but in this damn dust bowl any open wound is gonna be a problem." He sat back on his heels. The blood around the wound was already starting to clot and he was reluctant to disturb it too much. "I'd cover it… if we had something clean." John glanced down at his own pant legs; the only cloth he had, but shook his head. They were filthy and he suspected it'd do more harm than good. With a little luck, the shallow wound would clot and scab, hopefully protecting it.

"Perhaps we should leave it alone?" Teyla suggested.

John nodded, "yeah. I don't like it, but I don't see where we have much choice. It's already clotting. Hopefully it'll take care of itself." John's words sounded hollow, even to himself. The only thing worse at this point, then leaving the wound open, would to be to bind it with something as filthy as the clothes they were wearing. Open or covered, it'd be a miracle if Ronon didn't get an infection from this… and here, that could be deadly. Not just the infection itself, but if he couldn't fight… John pushed off his dark thoughts and quirked one eyebrow at Ronon. "Close call."

Ronon's grunt was non-committal, but there were hints of what John could only call concern, in his expression. Another inch closer and a half second later and it would've been Ronon lying dead in the Round.

John settled back against the wall next to his friend and closed his eyes. "Don't cut it so close next time," he quipped darkly. He heard Rodney settle to the ground next to him and turned his head towards the doctor. Cracking one eye open, John stared at the guilty look on Rodney's face and sighed as he opened his other eye. "McKay, we've been through this. It's not your fault."

"Did I say it was? No!" Rodney snapped before he fell silent again.

"Rodney," Teyla said quietly. "Do not blame yourself."

Rodney's snort was sarcastic. "Don't huh? Right. Easier said than done. They keep taking you guys out of here to fight god knows who and maybe even get killed. Meanwhile, I just sit here and watch it!" Rodney crossed his arms over his chest. "So, you'll forgive me if I wallow in my own guilt! I think I've earned the right!"

John looked past him to Patch, who observed the conversation with interest. John refocused his attention on Rodney. "Keep it down. The neighbors are watching."

"There has to be something…" Rodney lowered his voice and rubbed his brow. "Some way out of here."

"Without the transmitters," John added.

"Yes, well, forgive me for not thinking about that unpleasant inevitability," Rodney snapped, sounding much more like himself.

John again rested his head against the wall. "McKay?" he asked quietly.

"What?" Rodney's voice was predictably annoyed.

John turned his head. "It'll be okay." He knew a resounding note of doubt found its way into his voice, in spite of his best attempts to hide it with confidence.

Rodney swallowed hard and nodded, is own expression hesitant. "Yeah," he finally answered.

John closed his eyes and tried to relax, saving what strength he had for survival; not only for himself, but for his team too.

--

Lorne knew the unease he felt permeating his body, was no worse in him than in Halling. In fact, he could practically feel the tension radiating from the tall Athosian as they made their way down a small decline away from the Stargate. Short grass surrounded them and in the distance, across the plains, they could see a small village. Lorne stifled the urge to say anything. Four planets and five days ago, on the planet Elena had sent them to, he'd voiced his concern over whether Halling could pull this off or not…

_Lorne stepped through the wormhole and squinted at Halling's stoic gaze. "You gonna be okay?" He ventured quietly._

_Halling stopped, taking a moment before he turned and faced Lorne. "Even to act as though I worship the Wraith is almost unbearable. Wraith worshipping is one of the gravest accusations amongst my people and the greatest of insults." A twitch crossed Halling's cheek before his stoic mask returned. "My own wife; Jinto's mother was culled when he was barely old enough to remember her… but he does. I see that pain in his eyes, now and then… a pain I can do nothing to eliminate; a pain caused by the Wraith. That, more than anything, is unforgivable." His stern look only darkened, and Lorne couldn't remember having ever seen Halling show even a hint of the anger he displayed now. "Those that would worship them, only aid the Wraith in spreading their evil throughout the galaxy."_

_Lorne's gaze narrowed as an alarm sounded within him. "Halling, this isn't going to work if…"_

_"You do not need to tell me, Major," Halling interrupted. "Next to Jinto, Teyla means more to me than anyone, and I have Colonel Sheppard to thank for my life. I will not fail either of them." _

_Lorne stared at him another minute as Halling drew in several deep breaths. In an instant, the tension that seemed to shroud him disappeared, replaced by quiet serenity. _

_Abruptly, Halling turned away and proceeded down the path towards the village._

Lorne shook off the memory and followed Halling. The normally gentle man carried deep hatred for the Wraith, which definitely wasn't unwarranted. Lorne couldn't blame him. Like most humans in this galaxy, Halling had suffered great personal loss at the hands of the Wraith. Lorne had nothing but contempt for the Wraith, something he'd developed in time on Atlantis and he'd come to view them with the cold regard of an enemy. But, he also knew that his hatred, no matter how strong, could never rival that of Halling or Teyla or Ronon… or almost any Pegasus native for that matter.

Lorne trotted a couple steps and drew up even with Halling. "Look, I know we wouldn't have gotten this far without your help. Even if we never…" his voice trailed off and he drew in a deep breath. I'm sorry for questioning you," he offered quietly. When Halling looked confused, Lorne pointed over his shoulder. "Couple days ago."

Halling nodded in recognition and glanced sideways at him. "Do not be. Were I in your place, I would have had the same concerns." He turned his head to stare Lorne in the eyes. "But do not worry. I will do what is necessary to obtain the information we need."

Lorne's small smile was thin. "Yeah, I know." He turned his gaze back to the village. "Maybe we'll get lucky this time." He stifled his frustration and tried to hold onto hope. Elena's address had led them to a planet of worshippers, true, but none knew anything useful except to refer them to another world, who referred them to another and another… Lorne sighed. Precious time was ticking away for Colonel Sheppard's team… if they were even still alive. As much as Lorne hated to admit it, they had no proof that all this running around wasn't a wild goose chase to start with. For all they knew, Sheppard's team could've been culled and were straight out dead by now. Lorne shook off the thought. The Colonel's team had survived enough near misses that he wasn't about to write them off yet. Until he had absolute proof they were dead, he damn sure wasn't going to make that assumption.

Both men were silent as they walked into the small, quiet village. To one side a larger building had the looks of a rustic inn, so, with a mutual nod, they agreed it was as good a place to start as any. Lorne let Halling lead as the big man pushed the door open, and they entered the inn, looking as casual as they could.

The large common room was gloomy; shutters partially closed, in spite of the warm day. Small slits of light came through the narrow openings in the shutters, and enough air circulated to keep a haze of smoke from a low burning fire pit at a bearable level. Wooden tables and chairs lined the room, the candles on each casting an orange glow that clashed with the hints of natural light. A tall, stout bar stood in front of the back wall. From behind it, a man stared at them, obviously cautious of strangers.

Lorne and Halling exchanged quick looks before they made their way across the room and walked up to the bar.

"Greetings," Halling said quietly.

The man looked at him for a moment, before taking another minute to regard Lorne.

Lorne returned his measured gaze, his expression cautiously neutral.

"And to you," the man answered. "Praise to the Wraith." He paused, his eyes narrowing as he gauged their reactions.

Lorne buried his contempt and managed to lift one side of his mouth in a slight smile before he nodded subtly at the bartender. He looked at Halling, who bowed his head.

"Praise indeed," Halling answered. "Ales for myself and my friend."

"Ales," the man answered. He turned towards a rough keg and when he faced them again, he set two metal mugs on the bar. "Those who serve are welcome here."

Halling set a small knife on the bar, which the man took without word.

"Not many places where devotion to the Wraith is so openly expressed," Lorne stated casually as he sipped his ale.

"Those who do not share our opinions do not see fit to bother us much," the bartender replied. "And those that do are dealt with."

Over the top of his mug, Lorne stared at the hard edges to the man's expression and knew without doubt he was dangerous. Had their reaction to his praise of the Wraith been any different, Lorne knew he and Halling would be fighting for their lives right now. He swallowed and nodded.

"Our home," Halling started, "serves a mighty hive. The queen is generous to those of us devoted to her." He drew in a deep breath. "She once restored my life."

The bartender's expression turned respectful. "Then you are blessed indeed. Only the most devout of us are granted that accord. We serve a mighty alliance of four queens," his voice turned proud, "they are nearly uncontested in this galaxy."

"We have heard of this Alliance," Halling answered, his voice neutral.

"There are not many that have not," the man replied, "even amongst those who do not worship."

Lorne took another sip of his ale but never took his eyes from the bartender as the man's expression turned dark.

"The Alliance once numbered five queens, but one was killed by those that inhabited the ancestral city." His voice turned dangerous. "Their clothing and weapons are well known to us. Should they ever venture to this planet, they will pay for their transgressions."

Lorne clenched his jaw and fought to keep the resentment from his face but some must've gotten through for the bartender stared hard at him.

"You seem angered," his voice still held an edge of danger to it.

Lorne sucked in a quick breath. "Just thinking of the people who would dare kill a queen," he answered quietly. Playing it to the fullest, Lorne held tightly to his angered expression. "And what I'd do to them."

"Indeed," the bartender replied after a long moment. "You have the look of a fighter."

"My friend," Halling interrupted, "has fought many times; not only against those who do not worship, but also for the Wraith. Our queen enjoys such things."

Lorne quirked his brow slightly at the direction Halling was taking the conversation but said nothing. His expression turned confident and he let a hint of dark danger color it.

The bartender absently wiped a rag across the bar. "Yes, it is not uncommon. The Alliance also enjoys fighting. They have made a sport of it amongst the non-worshippers. Those suited to it are made to fight." He grunted quietly. "A just ending for those who do not follow the Way."

"Yes," Halling agreed. He briefly glanced at Lorne before returning his attention to the bartender. "There must be some Believers that serve this Alliance?"

The bartender's expression turned leery. "Why do you ask? Surely you serve your queen?"

"We do," Lorne answered before Halling could, "but it seems she'll be joining the Alliance soon. We want to serve wherever she is." Lorne absently swirled his tankard. "If this Alliance enjoys fighting as much as you say, then someone like me could be pretty useful." He looked up at the bartender. "I'm sure they'd be pleased you sent us their direction."

Suspicion was replaced by calculated thoughtfulness as the bartender mulled over Lorne's words. "There is truth to what you say," he answered finally. "Wait here." He turned and disappeared into a back room.

"Well played my friend," Halling smiled slightly at him.

"Thanks," Lorne muttered. "I'll be happy when we get the information we need and get the hell out of here."

"Yes," Halling nodded. He fell silent as the bartender returned and slid a worn piece of parchment across the bar to him.

"You are right to assume that worshippers serve the Alliance. Such is the way amongst all of us." He pointed at the parchment. "This is the planet where the non-worshippers fight. Many of us serve there, for it is a large facility that houses many prisoners."

"What can you tell us about this place?" Lorne asked casually. "How do they fight?"

The bartender, apparently satisfied that Halling and Lorne could be trusted, smiled slightly. "The non-worshippers are made to fight with many different weapons. The winners live, but the losers…" his smile turned gratifying, "they often they sustain the queens."

Lorne almost couldn't swallow his anger, so he forced a dark smile, his expression turning slightly maniacal. "Sounds fair," he managed.

The bartender stepped back and bowed his head. "May the blessings of the Wraith go with you."

Halling nodded back. "And with you."

Lorne gave the man the briefest of nods before he followed Halling from the inn.

As they walked back across the plains and towards the Stargate, Lorne let his carefully constructed mask fall. "Son of a bitch," he spat. He shook his head, part of him bewildered that one human could be so callous about another. He certainly didn't look at the world through rose colored glasses. Being a career soldier he'd seen, more than once, how cruel humans could be to each other, but it still never ceased to shock him… and he was glad. As long as he was shocked and outraged, he still had his own humanity and could still make a difference.

"Yes," Halling agreed. "Those that would serve the Wraith and so casually condemn their fellow humans, are beneath contempt."

Standing next to the DHD, Lorne looked back at the distant village as Halling dialed the gate. "Have to update the database," he muttered. "Lock this place out and make sure not one of our teams ever sets foot here." He turned away from the dark thoughts of what would've happened, had they unknowingly visited this planet on routine recon. Lorne shook his head slightly as he punched up his personal IDC. When it came to Stargates and travelling to different planets, nothing was ever routine; especially in this galaxy.

With one, last look at the village, he turned and followed Halling through the gate.

--

Muffled sounds from a nearby cell woke John. Even holding perfectly still, he could feel the soreness that permeated his body and was reluctant to move. The cold, stone wall he was leaning against definitely didn't help matters. Still, he turned his head slightly towards the noise. Across the hallway, in an adjacent cell, he could barely make out movement in the gloom, but as stifled grunts again drifted across the space between them he didn't need to see anything more to know what was happening. Several of the men in that cell had fought well in the last couple days and only a few hours before, three downtrodden women had been thrown into the cell with them. Obviously, the boys were taking full advantage of the situation.

Powerless to do anything, John turned his head away and tried to tune out what was happening. Next to him, he heard Ronon stir slightly and he looked up, meeting the big man's seething gaze.

"I'll kill them if I ever get the chance," Ronon growled.

Every fiber of John's being wanted to agree with Ronon, but he pushed his own feelings aside. "Not if it's in the Round you won't." He stared hard at Ronon for a moment, before the Satedan nodded. John watched him as he leaned back against the cave wall and sighed. John's gaze fell to the wound on Ronon's side; angry and red. In spite of their hopes, infection was starting to settle into the wound. Not surprising, but not welcomed either. Still functional, Ronon said nothing about it, but John suspected his friend was starting to feel the effects. In another day, two at the most, Ronon would be in serious trouble if something didn't change.

"God!" Rodney hissed, "they behave like animals, I mean no privacy for… well… you know…" he stammered.

"We do not give privacy to animals," Teyla's whispered voice was clearly troubled but still held a note of reason. "The Wraith view us as the same. If you treat people as animals, after a while they begin to behave like them," she concluded quietly.

"Not me," Rodney muttered. "I don't care how anyone treats me, I'd never do… that!"

"You can only watch out for yourself," a quiet voice spoke from the next cell. "Everyone's fate is their own and no one else's."

John turned his head towards the source of the voice. Even in the gloom, he could make out Della lying on the ground, just on the other side of the prison bars. The faint light caught a gleam of sweat on her face. John furrowed his brows. "Della? You okay?" He heard her suck in a loud breath before she responded.

"I do not think so."

Wincing against his protesting body, John pushed himself away from the wall and, facing her, he knelt as close to the bars as he could. He reached through them and paused. "I won't hurt you."

"I know," Della rasped before coughing weakly.

John gently settled his hand on her brow and frowned at the heat, before he shifted his hand to her throat and felt for a pulse. "She's got a pretty high fever," he commented to no one in particular. "Pulse is rapid too."

"I'm surprised more of us aren't sick," Rodney hissed. "This place is filthy with no sanitation to speak of."

John let his hand rest on her shoulder as he pursed his lips and looked around helplessly. He knew what she needed, but he had nothing. Of all the people they'd encountered in this god forsaken place, she'd been the only one to talk to them and try to help them. Now, she needed help, and he had none to offer. He didn't even have any water to give her. The frustration must've shown on his face because he felt Della's hand find his.

"It is all right, John," she whispered. "You wish to help me and care enough to do so if you could. That is enough."

John turned his hand to grip hers. "Our people have the means, but…" He shook his head as his voice trailed off. He held tightly to her hand as a violent coughing bout wracked her body. John shook his head at how rapidly she'd become so gravely ill. McKay was right, with no sanitation, it was a miracle they weren't all sick at this point.

"Stay strong, Della," Ronon scooted up next to the bars and stared at her.

John looked up at his friend, suddenly realizing the kinship Ronon must've been feeling for Della. It was likely that Ronon would be in the same condition before long, and John knew that Ronon realized it himself.

"God," Rodney hissed, "I just realized… I mean, as soon as the Wraith see her…" His voice trailed off as Teyla poked him hard in the arm.

John sent a seething glare in Rodney's direction.

"I know my fate," Della answered, her voice strangely calm. "I welcome it, if only to escape this place."

"Don't write yourself off yet," John answered, more out of reflex then anything. "When we get out of here, we can help you." He felt the intensity of her stare as she locked eyes with him, her gaze knowing, but she said nothing.

John could do nothing but sit with her as his mind turned over her words and their situation. Even if they escaped now, how would they get her free? Could they even fight their way to the gate caring for her in the process? Still, He knew they'd try because while he barely knew her, he didn't think his conscience would let him leave her behind. But, that was if they escaped now, which was impossible. He'd thought of little else besides finding a way to escape, ever since they'd arrived here, but no matter how he looked at things, he couldn't find a way that had even a remote chance at success. Darkly, he began to see why everyone here seemed to live in various stages of hopelessness; he couldn't have been the first one to contemplate freedom and not find the answer and even though Ronon was apparently headed down the same path as Della, it didn't change their situation, nor open any doors to freedom.

But, John held tightly to his inner strength, his team had an ace in the hole. He knew, without doubt, that Atlantis was looking for them. There was no way Weir, or Lorne or any of them would write his team off as dead without solid proof. He knew eventually they'd find his team, he just had to keep his people alive long enough to **be** found.

But then, there was Della. His thoughts came full circle as he looked down at her unconscious form. Unless Lorne burst through those doors now, they'd be too late to save her. First thing in the morning when the Wraith and human servants came around with water, they'd find her and that would be the end of it. In a few days, Ronon might be next. Della's words to him, when they'd first arrived, echoed in his head.

"_Look around you, John. There are no injured fighters."_

_Or sick for that matter…_John exchanged a knowing look with Teyla, who nodded once. Sitting back, John withdrew his hand from the sick woman's shoulder and leaned against the bars, but as tired as he was, sleep eluded him.

--

"Unscheduled off-world activation!"

Elizabeth jumped up from her desk and hurried into Ops. "Do we have an IDC?"

Chuck, her resident gate technician, turned to a nearby laptop, paused, then nodded. "It's Major Lorne."

Smiling slightly, Elizabeth nodded. "Lower the shield." She walked through Ops and skipped down the stairs into the Gate room, crossing its length, as Lorne and Halling stepped through the wormhole. She squinted slightly at both their tired faces. Ever since Colonel Sheppard's team had disappeared, she doubted either one of them had any decent sleep.

"Ma'am," Lorne pulled a weathered piece of parchment from his coat. "We know where this Alliance holds these fights. If our people are alive, it's a good bet they're here."

She stared down at the scrawled gate address. "Do we have any idea how many Wraith we'd be facing?" Elizabeth looked up and arched an eyebrow at the hesitant look on Lorne's face.

"No, ma'am, we don't. Given it's an alliance of four queens and a good number of human prisoners who are most likely dangerous fighters, I'd guess it's pretty heavily fortified." Lorne pursed his lips. "No matter how we do this, we're going to have a fight on our hands." He straightened slightly. "But I don't see where we have much of a choice."

"If they are there," Halling added quietly, "then we must help them."

"The key word here is 'if', gentlemen." Elizabeth pushed aside her own feelings and forced herself to be objective. "You're walking into a heavy combat situation without even knowing for sure if they're there." Part of her… the part that had gotten so used to John at her side, supporting her, helping her to lead Atlantis; lending her his strength, that part wanted to push aside all rationale and send a team in, guns blazing, to find her people. But that same voice that had drawn strength from John, had also learned from him. He'd never risk an assault like this, on a potential wild goose chase. Maybe, in that first year he'd been in Pegasus, he might have. But, the Pegasus Galaxy had taught them all some pretty harsh lessons since then; him included.

Elizabeth dropped her head and sighed. "I can't send a strike force into that kind of danger without some solid evidence." She quickly turned away and headed for the stairs, refusing to look back at either of their faces. As she re-entered Ops, she heard both Lorne and Halling trot up the stairs behind her.

"Dr. Weir…" Halling started.

"Ma'am." Lorne cut across Halling. "We could send a cloaked Jumper to detect their sub-q transmitters. Then we'd know for sure."

"I hate to... what is the saying? Rain on your parade?" Zelenka interjected, "but if Colonel Sheppard's team was captured and brought to this planet, it is likely their transmitters were detected and removed or deactivated." Zelenka's gaze dropped. "That is not a reliable indication of whether or not they are there."

"Then I'll take a recon team," Lorne immediately answered.

Elizabeth stared evenly at his determined look as he moved a few steps closer to her.

"Ma'am, we have to know." Lorne insisted. "If they're there…"

Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment and she could see John's face.

"_You don't leave people in the hands of the enemy!"_

John's words echoed in her head as opened her eyes, turned and walked across Ops to the balcony overlooking the Stargate. Her hands gripped tightly to the guard rail, she leaned heavily on them as she tried to decide what to do.

"_Elizabeth," John planted both fists on her desk and fixed her with a fierce look. "I'll take a small strike team. In and out, the Genii won't be expecting it and won't know what hit 'em. I won't risk a full assault, but at the same time, if they're holding Miller's team, I'm damn sure not going to sit back and do nothing." _

Elizabeth dropped her head. That time, John's plan had worked. But, while the Genii were fierce soldiers, this time they were talking about a base full of Wraith. Still, the heart and soul of his words rang true with her and whether it was Genii or Wraith or Wraith worshippers, the principle was the same.

You don't leave people behind.

She turned and nodded once at Lorne. "Do it. Take a small team of volunteers." In the back of her mind, she knew Lorne wouldn't have any trouble finding men that would offer to go. Colonel Sheppard's command was close knit… something that had a lot to do with their CO. "If you can get them out, do it. But, if you're not sure, then I'm ordering you to come back for reinforcements. I'm relying on you to make a sound judgment call, Major; personal feelings aside. The last thing we need are more people getting captured." She walked back into Ops and stopped close to Lorne. "Is that clear?"

One side of Lorne's mouth turned up and creased his dimples ever so slightly. "Yes, ma'am," he answered, his voice slightly smug. He turned and trotted down the back stairs leading away from Ops.

Elizabeth turned her attention to Halling and she smiled. "Thank you, Halling, for everything."

Halling bowed his head slightly. "We have not brought them home safely yet, Dr. Weir."

Elizabeth nodded. "True. But, we wouldn't even have a chance if it wasn't for your help. Whatever happens, I'm grateful for your assistance."

--

Movement in the hallways roused John from a fitful doze. He looked up, squinting as a group of humans made their way between cells with the morning's ration of water. Four Wraith guards accompanied them. John's eyes widened as he looked into the next cell. "Della, sit up. If they see you laying like that, they'll know you're sick." John reached through the cell and shook her shoulder insistently. "Della!" he hissed. "Wake up!"

Lying on her side, Della moaned quietly, but that was the only response John could get from her. His mind raced, looking for some way to fool the Wraith; to make it look like she was fine, but, as he glanced at Ronon first and then Teyla, and finally Rodney, he saw only knowing and solemn looks on their faces. In a dark moment, he realized there was nothing he could do. "Shit!" John shook her shoulder again. "Della, get up, damn it!"

He looked up as the Wraith and the humans stopped outside Della's cell. The four Wraith stared at her for a moment, before one of them walked away. The prisoners were given water, all except Della who remained prone and semi-conscious. John took one last look at her and stood, moving with his team to the front of the line behind Patch as the water bearers moved to his cell. Receiving his ration, John walked back to Della. But, as he tried to reach through the bars to give his water to her, Teyla's hand on his arm stopped him.

"You must have water too, John," she said quietly.

John pressed his lips together as he fought with himself. She was right. He knew it… but that didn't mean he liked it one damned bit.

"We can all leave a quarter of our ration for her," Teyla reasoned.

"Do not waste your time, human."

John looked past Teyla as Harry, flanked by the guard who had left only a few minutes ago, stared back at him. Silent, he motioned his head at two guards who quickly entered the cell and grabbed Della by the arms, roughly pulling her along between them as they headed for the door.

"No!" Ronon shoved his arm through the cell, just missing Della's wrist. He grasped helplessly at empty air.

John's cheek twitched in rage. "You son of a bitch," he managed through clenched teeth, but Harry only stared back, his expression leering.

Without another word, Harry turned and left, the two guards dragging Della between them, following behind.

John stared at the ripples in his cup of water and realized that his hand was shaking in rage. He drew in one ragged breath, then another, before he felt in control enough to slowly drink his water.

"God," Rodney whispered, his voice cracking.

"Use the anger."

John looked up, finding Ronon's dark gaze.

Ronon's eyes narrowed. "Use it to strengthen you, don't let it eat at you."

After a moment, John nodded roughly. Ronon was right. Blind rage would only lead to reckless mistakes, but controlled hatred; a cold and calculated clarity, was far more dangerous. One thing John knew for sure; when he left this planet, Harry would be dead, if he had anything to say about it.

A clatter in the hallway forced him from his dark brooding. John looked up, squinting as a large, wheeled, cage was pushed between cells, heading for the Round. Within, he could hear deep growls, punctuated by almost rabid sounding barks. As the cage was pushed closer, he got his first look at the occupants. "What the hell?" he whispered. Easily three almost four feet tall at the shoulder, the beasts inside roughly resembled wolves, but with longer, more pronounced teeth and sharp claws on their feet. It was impossible to tell how many were there, but from the commotion, there had to be several.

"They're Malneks," Ronon answered quietly. "Cousins to Satedan Warags, but they're not pets."

John watched the snarling wolf-like creatures and grimaced. "Yeah, I figured that."

"I have heard of the ferociousness of these animals," Teyla added as she walked up next to John, "but this is the first time I've ever seen them."

"Ran into a pack of them one time when I was Running," Ronon continued quietly, "have the scars to prove it."

"Why do I think you're going to be at the top of the queens' list of likely entrees for those things?" Rodney whispered.

"Because we're so likable?" John quipped back darkly.

"This is NOT the time to be a smart ass!" Rodney glowered at him.

"We'll be okay," John muttered, trying to reassure himself more than anything.

"Are you nuts?" Rodney hissed. "Look at those things! They're like Pit Bulls on steroids!"

As he watched the cage slowly move towards the Round, John was inclined to agree. "This is not good," he muttered.

--


	7. Chapter 7

_I'm glad there are some people still reading my story. :) Thanks for the reviews. I'd love to be updating faster then every week and a half or so, but RL really has gotten in my way in recent months.  
_

_Hope you like this chapter. They're in a bit of bind, aren't they? ;) _

--

"That's the understatement of the century," Rodney backed away from the cell bars. "Uh…hi?"

The uncomfortable tone to Rodney's voice caught John's attention. He turned, his gaze narrowing as Patch, his expression cocky, stared Rodney in the eye. Before John could move, Ronon was at Rodney's side.

Stiffly, the big Satedan straightened. "Want something?"

Patch looked up at Ronon for a minute, before he pushed his way past Rodney and stared hard at John. "Sorry about your friend," his smile widened as if he found the whole situation amusing.

The anger John felt was too close to the surface… too raw to contain. Without hesitation, he took a giant step and arched a roundhouse punch at him, but the fighter was ready and blocked it before jabbing John hard in the jaw, sending him staggering.

Instantly, Patch's boys joined the fight and as John recovered, he quickly found himself in the middle of a brawl. He focused his attention on Patch and swung again, this time stepping inside the man's guard and connecting with his gut.

Patch stumbled backwards but he recovered quicker then John would've guessed and he had no chance to defend himself as Patch spun and backhanded him across the face.

John hit the ground hard and saw stars, but before he could get up, Patch threw himself on top of him. John grunted, shifted a knee up and rolled backwards, propelling Patch over his head.

John jumped to his feet and looked around, quickly taking stock of his team. Ronon and Teyla seemed to be holding their own, though in Ronon's weakened state, he was clearly struggling. But, John had to let him handle it, because two of Patch's boys had Rodney backed into a corner and were beating on him. John launched himself at one of the assailants and all but threw him against the wall, not bothering to watch as the man slumped to the ground. He spun, leveling the other one with a vicious right cross. His chest heaving with exertion, John looked back at his friend. "McKay?"

Rodney lowered his arms from around his head and looked up before nodding once.

John whirled around, bent on helping his friends, but as he started towards them a bolt of pure pain took him square in the chest. A strangled cry escaped his lips as his knees buckled. Nearby, he could make out Teyla, Ronon, Patch and his boys all on their knees, their faces contorted in pain. A second blast knocked him on his back and this time his cry was noiseless. Pain pinched off his breath, suffocating him, but just as he felt he would black out, his breath came back to him in ragged gasps. He looked up, blinking hard at the sight of several Wraith crowding the cell, all bearing stun rifles.

John pushed himself to one elbow as Harry stepped around a guard and looked down at him. "This is not allowed," he stated plainly.

"Yeah," John glared at him as he pushed himself onto his knees. "I get that."

"If you must expend your energy," Harry's eyes widened in anticipation, "then you will do so in the Round."

John's lips curled back in anger. "We didn't start this!" He tore his enraged look from Harry and focused it on Patch who knelt nearby.

"That matters little to me," Harry turned his attention to Patch. "He will fight the beasts." Harry looked back at John. "As will you, and your friends." Harry stepped around John and fixed a leering gaze on Rodney. "You as well."

"Oh God," Rodney whispered.

John launched himself at Harry, but was stopped cold by a Wraith guard who threw him against the wall for his trouble. Two more restrained Ronon and yet another stopped Teyla.

John's hands encircled the guard's wrist, firmly gripping his neck. "That wasn't part of the deal!" he choked.

Harry cocked his head and gave John a leering smile. "The deal… has changed." He turned and left the cell. The guards released John, Teyla and Ronon before leaving as well.

John staggered a minute before crossing the cell, his glare never leaving Harry.

Harry turned and stared coldly at John through the bars of the cell. "If you choose not to fight, the beasts will certainly kill all of you."

John pressed his face against the bars, feeling the vibration as Ronon threw himself into them with an angry shout. "You double crossing bastard!"

Harry just smiled and walked away.

"They are Wraith," Teyla commented quietly. "They do not care about fairness."

John's gaze narrowed as he stared daggers at Harry's retreating back. "All bets are off." He glared for a moment at the two guards that remained behind, stunners held ready to deter any further brawling. Reminded of the fight, John turned, watching as Patch slowly got to his feet. Cautiously, John stepped around Ronon and stared coolly at the man. "If we're going to survive those Malneks, we'll need to work together."

Patch's gaze held no warmth as he stared back for a moment before nodding once, curtly, and walking to the other side of the cell.

"I don't trust him," Ronon muttered quietly.

"Me either," John agreed. "But we can't fight against him and those damned Malneks at the same time." He turned his head, glancing at Rodney before he did a double take and narrowed his eyes at the doctor.

Rodney stood with his back against the cave wall, his face pale and sweaty and his breathing rapid.

John quickly walked over to him, Teyla and Ronon following. "McKay? You all right?"

Rodney looked up at him, his eyes wide with fear. "Not really, no."

John pursed his lips as he quickly concluded what had the doctor so rattled… and it had nothing to do with supposed hypoglycemia; something that hadn't plagued Rodney once since this whole ordeal started. Deep down, John wasn't surprised. Rodney dealt with stress and near death in odd but intense ways. Sometimes, he was his own worst enemy. Hypochondria, intentional or not, was one way Rodney dealt, or rather didn't deal, with what he called imminent doom. It just didn't happen to be the way he was dealing with **this** imminent doom.

John refocused on the situation at hand. Rodney was near panic and for a reason. He was a civilian scientist. Fighting was something he'd never had to learn and John knew for a fact he had no fighting skills whatsoever. He sighed quietly. "I'll be okay."

"Like hell it will!" Rodney snapped back. "Did you see those things? I can't…" his voice trailed off.

"We will help you, Rodney," Teyla said quietly.

John mustered all the reassurance he could and pushed it into his voice. "McKay." He waited until Rodney looked up at him. John could see the helpless frustration in Rodney's expression. "The next time I need the DHD fixed, some weird-assed Ancient device explained, or some hare-brained scheme to save Atlantis, I'm counting on you to deliver. So for now…" he smiled slightly. "Ronon, Teyla and I will handle this."

"Malneks plus our buddy Patch?" Rodney's gaze was slightly disbelieving.

Johns shrugged. "He seemed agreeable to a truce."

"Right," Rodney quipped darkly, "That's so reassuring."

John saw a glimpse of the normal Rodney McKay showing through, so he decided to poke it into full awareness. "Well, if it gets bad enough, we'll just throw you to the Malneks and use the distraction to escape." His expression turned bemused.

"Oh, funny. The colonel is now a comedian. Hilarious." Rodney glared at him.

John's smile faded as he looked first at Teyla then Ronon. "You two okay?"

Teyla smiled reassuringly. "As well as to be expected."

John fixed his gaze on Ronon's pale and slightly drawn face. "You gonna be okay, big guy?"

Dark humor creased Ronon's eyes. "Do I have a choice?"

John quirked his brows but couldn't think of anything to say.

"He's got a point," Rodney sighed.

"I'll be fine."

All humor had fled Ronon's face by the time John looked back at him. John sighed. "I don't buy that for a second but…" his voice trailed off before he pursed his lips and nodded once. He looked past Ronon as Harry and six armed guards approached the cell.

As the bars parted, Harry locked gazes with John. "Now." He turned and walked away.

John looked at Rodney. "Stay close to one of us." Intensity crept into his dark eyes. "Always."

Uncharacteristically silent, Rodney nodded once.

Flashing a wary look at Patch, who walked out of the cell ahead of them, John led his team to the Round.

--

Elizabeth stopped in the doorway to the Jumper Bay and took a deep breath as she stared at the team looking back at her.

Six heavily armed Marines stood next to Lorne's equally armed team. Ten men, all volunteers. In spite of the grim situation, Elizabeth smiled slightly. She knew, without a doubt, there had been far more than ten men volunteer. Crossing the bay, she stopped in front of Lorne.

Lorne nodded once to her. "Ma'am."

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath. "Be careful, Major."

Lorne patted the P-90 that hung from his vest. "Yes, ma'am." He stared back at her. "We'll bring them home."

Elizabeth squinted slightly at him. "Not at the expense of your team, Major." She felt strange saying something that sounded like she was chastising a twelve year old, but at the same time, she knew how deeply Lorne's loyalty to Sheppard ran. "That's an order," she added quietly.

Lorne was motionless for a moment as he stared back at her before nodding once. "Yes, ma'am."

"Stay safe," she smiled slightly.

Lorne returned the expression before he turned and looked at his men. "Move out."

Elizabeth headed for the door as she heard the hatch of the Jumper lock shut. As she exited the bay, she silently hoped she hadn't let them talk her into a suicide mission.

--

The hot sand under John's feet was familiar. He'd stepped into the Round enough times for the heat seeping through the soles of his boots to instantly spark a wave of adrenaline in him. A loud, grinding sound behind him caused John to turn his head slightly and he watched as a large grate was moved across the entrance to the Round, blocking it. John let his gaze travel to the four queens that sat motionless and watching. Only two males stood between them and the open Round, but they didn't seem concerned. "What makes them think the Malneks won't attack them instead of us?" He wondered aloud.

Ronon shrugged. "It'd be nice," he muttered.

"The males will protect them," Patch offered gruffly. "I've seen it before."

John eyed him cautiously. He didn't doubt the strength of Wraith males, he'd encountered it enough times to know, but still it seemed like a pointless danger. "Really?"

Patch glared at him. "Yeah. The Malneks never get close."

"Telepathy," Rodney piped in. "Has to be. Wraith can bend the minds of humans to their will and while the queens have much stronger telepathy, animals have to be much easier to influence. I'll be the males could do it. I mean all they'd have to do is send a thought or image or something painful. That can't be as hard as bending a human mind to their will."

"That is what the Wraith male on Atlantis did to me when I entered his mind," Teyla interjected, speaking of Bob who they'd captured during the Siege, "I do not remember what it was that he projected to me, only that it was very painful."

Any further comment died on John's lips as the four queens stood and walked into the Round. One of the queens, her hair white, locked eyes with him an instant before he felt her enter his mind. Grunting, John resisted, but it was in vain as she forced him to his knees.

"Sheppard!"

"John!"

Ronon and Teyla's outbursts were simultaneous but they were stopped in their tracks by the other queens, and several guards with stunners.

John couldn't tear his eyes from the white haired queen as she stared down at him, her expression leering. He flinched as she ran the back of one finger down his cheek.

"It is a shame," she purred quietly. "You would've made such a fine worshipper."

"Not… a chance…." John managed through clenched teeth.

"And that is why you are here," she removed her hand. "It is possible you will die today, human, for the beasts are fierce." She circled him. "What do you think of that?"

John shook in rage as he fought against her control. "I'll die knowing… my people will beat… yours."

She completed her circle and stopped in front of him again. "Such spirit," she hissed quietly. "I long to feed… and savor the taste of your defiance."

John swallowed hard and steeled himself as an eager look crossed her face. "And rob you… of your… sport?"

The queen stepped back and instantly, John felt her leave his mind, removing a great weight that had pushed him down and into submission. He exhaled hard and slumped, just barely staying on his knees.

The other queens released Ronon and Teyla as well, before the four of them returned to their chairs.

_Thrones,_ John amended darkly. He slowly pushed himself to his feet and turned. Six Wraith aimed stunners at them, while two more dropped weapons in front of the humans.

Ronon immediately went for a long sword while Teyla took up a short one. John grabbed a third sword, its length something in between and grabbed a short blade for Rodney, while Patch grabbed the remaining one.

John held the sword tightly, cursing the necessity. Ronon had only just started to show him how to fight with a sword, something definitely not in the skill set for the USAF. He shot a brief look Patch's direction, before turning his attention back to his team as they closed ranks. John held the short knife out to Rodney, hilt first. "Take this."

"What the hell am I supposed to do with that?" Rodney snapped, his tone holding more fear than anger.

"Stab anything that growls," John answered, "except Ronon," he added darkly.

"This is NOT the time to be making wise cracks!" Rodney snatched the knife from John's hands.

Any trace of dark humor faded from John. "I won't have you standing out here defenseless, McKay."

"As if somehow the knife changes that," Rodney muttered, but John ignored him.

Standing close to Rodney he nodded at Ronon and Teyla. "Stay alive. Do whatever it takes."

"You too," Ronon answered.

John stared for a moment at the sheen of sweat on Ronon's brow and the dark circles under his eyes and knew that an infection from his wound was starting to get the best of him. Even healthy, the Malneks would be a challenge to all of them, but with Ronon weakened… John shook off the thought and took a deep breath as he turned his attention to the large cage in the center of the Round. Without preamble, another Wraith lifted a sturdy latch and threw the cage door open.

The Malneks needed no encouragement. Almost instantly, the black beasts leapt from the cage, snarling and growling as all eight turned their attention to the humans before them.

John swallowed against his instinctive and primal fear as eight sets of predatory eyes stared back at him and his team. He felt his shoulder brush against Rodney's. "Stay close, watch each other's backs."

"They hunt and kill as a pack," Patch added, "I've watched them in the Round before. They'll try to separate one of us from the group."

"All the more reason to stay together," John answered. He lifted his sword and pulled in a quick breath as the Malneks charged. John had seen how big they'd looked in their cages, but that did no justice to their size and formidable presence as they bore down on him and his team. Wolves on Earth had nothing on these things.

Two Malneks came straight at him and John swung his sword, blade meeting flesh, but only barely. The Malnek he hit jumped back, before launching itself at Rodney.

Rodney bumped into John as he tried to get out of the beast's way and cried out as the animal's claw raked across his forearm.

John slashed at the attacker and hissed in pain as another harried his side, teeth grazing across his ribcage.

No matter how much the group tried to stay together, the Malneks mercilessly charged amongst them, pushing each team member away from the other.

Inwardly, John cursed but he refused to be separated from Rodney. He eyed the two Malneks that followed him. Their lips curled back, revealing sharp teeth, the Malneks snarled as they cautiously paced in front of him, just outside of sword range. Almost in synch, the two Malneks turned opposite directions and started circling John and Rodney. John chanced a glance at his team mates. Ronon had killed one already and was facing off with another while Patch and Teyla both faced four more.

John pressed his back against Rodney's, as he stepped in a small circle, trying to watch both Malneks at once. He could feel Rodney's rapid breaths against his back. "Stab anything that comes at you, McKay," he whispered.

"You do realize you're pointing out the obvious?" Rodney snapped in a harsh whisper.

"McKay." John's gaze narrowed as he stared at the Malnek standing only a few feet away. "You can do this. You have to."

"Right… Shit!"

John didn't have time to react to the Malnek that launched itself at Rodney, he was too busy fending off an attack from the other one, that charged him at the same time. John struck out with his blade as the Malnek leapt for his throat, catching it in the midsection. The weight of the beast on his sword tip pulled John off balance and away from Rodney, but for the moment, he focused on making sure that when this Malnek went down, it stayed down.

John followed the beast to the ground and drove the blade deep into its gut.

The Malnek's snarl turned to a cry of pain before it went limp.

John pulled his sword free and spun, charging on the Malnek that snapped at Rodney. It sported a deep bleeding cut on the side of its face, proof that Rodney was at least putting up a fight, but it didn't seem deterred one bit. John pushed aside all hesitation as the Malnek leapt onto Rodney, knocking him to the ground. With a loud shout, John brought the sword down on the animal's back and felt bone crunch under his blow. Abruptly, the Malnek went limp and still. He pushed the beast off Rodney and offered a hand, only to tense as Rodney's eyes widened in panic.

"Watch out!"

John spun, but was just a second too late to fully parry a blow Patch aimed at him. Patch's sword glanced across his right arm, leaving a deep red gash behind it.

John leapt back, his hand reflexively grasping the wound before he glared at Patch. "You son of a bitch!"

Patch stared coldly back and in that instant, John could see the depth of helplessness that plagued the man; helplessness he buried under rage and anger. John realized that before him stood a man that had nothing to lose, no fear of death and was consumed by hate, frustration and vengeance.

John quickly glanced at Ronon as the big man's shout echoed. One Malnek had managed to latch onto his arm, only briefly, but long enough to inflict damage. John struggled to temper his rage. His team mates were fighting for their lives. He had no time for this.

"Time for you to die," Patch spat.

John lifted his sword, wondering how, exactly, he was going to beat the man. He parried a blow meant for his head but only barely. John found himself on the defensive, unable to launch any sort of counter attack against the clearly superior skills of Patch. John staggered, struggling to parry another blow and for an instant, his guard dropped. It was all Patch needed to graze John's side with the edge of his blade.

Grunting in pain, John ducked out of the way, preventing the blow from turning deadly. He lifted his sword to again face the man.

Abruptly, Patch staggered, crying out in pain and John was almost too surprised to react. Relying more on instinct than anything, he lashed out, his sword taking Patch in the gut.

Patch's eyes widened for a moment, before he slumped to the ground. John just stared, shocked, at Rodney's knife, buried to the hilt in Patch's thigh. Clearly, he hadn't thought of Rodney, who still sat on the ground, as a threat; a misjudgment that cost him his life. John glanced at Rodney for only a second.

"Don't say I never did anything for you," Rodney answered as he struggled to his feet.

"Come on!" John urged and he turned his attention back to his team mates. Teyla was backed against the wall, valiantly fending off the attack of two Malneks. Two lay at Ronon's feet while one yapped and snarled at him.

John did a quick head count. "That's only seven…" He whirled around, just in time to see a Malnek leap at him.

"John!" Rodney shouted.

Air exploded out of John's lungs as he landed hard, his sword flying from his hand. The weight of the Malnek on his chest was suffocating. Before he could react, the Malnek sunk its teeth into his left bicep and in a moment of white hot pain, he felt the sharp teeth meat his bone. John couldn't stifle the loud, hoarse cry that escaped him as he pushed futilely at the beast's head.

Abruptly, the Malnek let go and snarled before jumping off him and John caught a glimpse of the hilt of Rodney's knife, buried in the animal's side. Holding his injured arm close, John grabbed his sword and threw himself on the beast, stopping it short of attacking his now unarmed friend.

Attacking the only part of the beast he could reach with a sword, John cut deep into the Malnek's throat, turning his head as blood splattered his face. Rolling off the beast, John pushed himself to his knees and then, through blunt determination, to his feet. Blood flowed freely down his arm, and his legs threatened to collapse under him, but he pulled on every scrap of stubbornness he had to stay on his feet. Ronon still faced off with one Malnek, while Teyla still faced two. "Teyla!" John shouted as one got the best of her and drove her to the ground. He forced himself into something that resembled running, but only got half way to his team mate before the other Malnek she had faced, charged him. He staggered to a stop as the beast snarled at him. From the corner of his eye, he watched Teyla nimbly roll the beast over before delivering a lethal blow to the back of its skull.

His one arm nearly useless, John shouldered Rodney behind him. His eyes never left the Malnek, but as he raised his sword to defend himself from the leaping beast, it abruptly crumpled to the ground, Ronon's thrown sword protruding from its side. John sagged, only staying on his feet by sheer willpower and adrenaline. He looked up as Ronon shakily walked over to him. The big Satedan was sporting numerous cuts and wounds, the bite on his forearm being the most serious, but the bleeding was slow and mostly superficial from what John could tell. He was pale, in spite of his brown complexion, but seemed okay on the surface. John looked to Teyla who also carried several minor wounds but was none the worse for wear. The same could be said for Rodney who'd miraculously come through relatively unscathed.

It was only then that John looked down at his arm and realized how bad it was. Ragged gashes from the Malnek's teeth circled his bicep and bled freely. His hand felt numb and he seriously doubted he'd be able to raise his arm at all. The two gashes Patch had left him with were only slightly less serious and still bled as well. He suddenly felt light headed, and suspected it was from more than just fighting over and over with scant food and water.

"Your arm," Rodney whispered. "Oh God, when the queens see that…"

John didn't need Rodney to finish the sentence to come to the same conclusion. The wound was bad and his chances of leaving the Round alive weren't good. He drew in a deep breath and looked directly at Ronon. "Don't do anything stupid," he managed. "That's an order. Elizabeth and our people will find us… you." He glanced at Teyla and Rodney. "I'm ordering all of you to be alive when they do."

"John," Teyla started.

"Teyla." John looked back at her for a moment, determined to make her see his point. If he couldn't live, he was going to make damned sure his team did.

"We can't, I mean there has to be something…" Rodney stammered.

John drew himself up straight as the white haired queen stood and walked towards them.


	8. Chapter 8

_Gads! I'm so sorry for being tardy to update! I never intended to leave that cliffie so long, but I got tied up with a trip for my parent's 50th anniversary and then got sick. sigh Anyway, cliffie resolved! ;) Thanks so much for the reviews, I'm flattered at them for sure! Thanks for reading and reviewing! It's good to know that there are some people actually reading my story and actually liking it. ;)_

_--_

_Hide!_

It was the first thought that went through Lorne's mind as the Jumper rematerialized and shot from the wormhole into the bright sunlight. But he knew, as he felt stun blasts hit the hull, it hadn't been quick enough. Banking hard, he used their invisibility to his advantage and flew away from the Wraith guards who still blindly fired into the air.

"Damn it!" Lorne shook his head.

"Couldn't have cloaked it any faster, sir," Lieutenant Simms commented quietly. "We didn't have a whole lot of choices. A MALP on recon would've only told them we were coming."

"I know," Lorne admitted. For a moment he damned the efficiency of the Ancient cloaking technology; so efficient that a Jumper couldn't cloak before entering a wormhole. They'd tried it with an unmanned one, and found themselves one Jumper short. The cloaking technology was so complete that nothing rematerialized on the other side. How the Jumper de-materialized in the first place, McKay had no idea. But, it didn't really matter. The whole point was they had to be uncloaked to enter a wormhole… something of a disadvantage when stealth was your trump card. But then again, Lorne concluded, the Ancients probably didn't do a hell of a lot of recon in Jumpers. There was some evidence of recon missions in the Ancients' past, but not a lot. With superior technology, they could win any all out fight. Why risk it?

Lorne pulled his thoughts back to the task on hand. "That settles it then," he muttered. "There's no going back for reinforcements. All that'll do is let the Wraith either reinforce their position, or just plain leave, taking our people with them or…" he left the unpleasant alternative unvoiced.

"Yes, sir," Simms nodded before turning to the team waiting tensely in the back of the Jumper. "Get ready."

Lorne activated the HUD and scrutinized the life form readings. Wraith were everywhere, but that was expected. What surprised him was the high concentration of humans in a relatively small area. Lorne shook his head. "No signal from their sub-q transmitters." Not that he was surprised. The Wraith surely would've deactivated or removed them long before now. "Looks like we find them the old fashioned way." Lorne turned the Jumper towards the highest concentration of human life signs and urged her into overdrive.

--

For the second time that day, John felt the oppressive force of the queen's mind on his and in spite of his best efforts, his knees buckled. Not that he was able to put up much of a fight in the first place, hell, his legs had be threatening to betray him on their own accord anyway.

"John!"

John managed to turn his head in time to see McKay, his entire body rigid, fall to his knees under the control of another queen. Past him, Ronon met the same fate at the hands of a third queen and Teyla fell to the fourth.

John returned his attention to the white haired queen as she walked up to him and looked down. Slowly, her gaze passed over his body, lingering on his mangled arm. Her eyes once more met his and her expression turned eager.

"Your wounds are severe, human." She hissed quietly. "You will not survive them in the Pit."

John's stomach did summersaults and he knew it was from more than her mental connection. He was bleeding badly and its effects were settling into his undernourished body rapidly. Still, he found strength in his blunt stubbornness; something that had got him into trouble more than once, but at times like this, he embraced it. "Care to… take a bet… on that?" He managed as he fought her control.

The queen lightly fingered the spikes of hair on his crown. "You **are** strong." She dropped her hand. "Still, you will not survive your wounds without care… and I am not inclined to give it to you."

"Why am I not… surprised?" John shot back.

She turned and looked at Ronon, who fought the control of the black haired queen. For several moments, the two queens silently locked gazes apparently communicating before the white haired one looked back to John. "Your companion is weakened by fever and wounds. He will not survive either."

"Still strong enough… to kill …you…" Ronon managed through clenched teeth.

She ignored him, her attention centered on John. "It is best to deal quickly with those weakened by fever."

John felt his body tremble uncontrollably under her control but still, he fought. "Is that what… you did to… Della? Dealt with… her?"

The queen's gaze narrowed and instantly, John felt her mind press harder against his before it retreated slightly and the queen nodded in understanding.

"The female," she concluded. "Yes." She looked away for a moment, almost as if she was bored. "Her death was… swifter then I would've liked."

For a moment, John's wounds were forgotten as he felt a surge of strength, driven by anger. He lifted himself slightly, but it was a brief victory as the queen glared at him and snarled, her mind weighing on him like an anvil. John grunted loudly. "You… bitch!" he choked.

But, the white haired queen seemed distracted. Her eyes narrowed in anger before she hissed loudly. She glared down at John. "Your people come for you!"

In spite of her control, John managed a humorless smile. "Told… you…"

The queen's eyes bore into him and suddenly pain ripped through his injured arm. A strangled cry escaped his lips and the queen smiled in response, before the pain redoubled.

John could feel the sweat trickling down his face as he struggled to even breathe. Somehow, the queen was augmenting the pain from his injuries, elevating it to near excruciating levels.

The queen's smile was triumphant. Poised over him, she raised her feeding hand.

--

At first, Lorne couldn't quite believe his eyes. Of all the human life signs they'd detected, the chances of easily spotting their people had been next to none. But right in front of him, he saw all four. Surprise gave way to urgency as his mind registered what he was seeing. "Queens!"

"Sir!" Simms piped in, "the Colonel!"

Lorne's eyes widened. "Damn it!" Poised over Sheppard, the queen was too close for a drone. Lorne closed his eyes briefly and commanded the Jumper to disengage the cloak.

The moment of surprise was apparently all that Ronon needed. As Lorne lowered the Jumper quickly towards the ground he watched as the Satedan, freed of the control by a distracted black haired queen, leapt up and grabbed her head, snapping her neck instantly.

Hovering a couple feet above ground, Lorne figured he was close enough. "Go!" he shouted to the Marines as he smacked the hatch release. "Take out the queens first if you can!" He nodded to Simms as the lieutenant sprang from his chair and grabbed his P-90. Every fiber in Lorne's body wanted to go with him, but he forced himself to stay in the seat. Their surprise attack would undoubtedly bring reinforcements and he could help the team much more by using the Jumper's drones to stop them.

As Simms and the last of the Marines jumped from the back of the Jumper, Lorne closed the hatch and ascended. Watching the HUD closely, he chose his first set of targets; a large group of Wraith moving towards their position.

--

John felt his death approaching, but, as was his nature, he met the prospect with his eyes open, and a blunt determination to survive. He pushed back against her control, against the pain and held onto a thin strand of hope.

"_You're optimistic to the point of nauseating, Sheppard." _

For a moment, the memory of the hellhole that passed for an Afghan prison invaded his thoughts.

_John stared at his copilot. "Yep. They'll come for us."_

He'd gotten out of there alive, even if his teammate hadn't. Briefly, John wondered if this time, his luck had run out.

Pulling himself back to the present, John stared defiantly at the queen and struggled to bite back his grunts of pain. His whole body shook with the effort, but he refused to back down.

Movement from the corner of his eye coincided with the fire of pain ebbing in his body. It was still there, still considerable, but it was almost blissfully non-existent compared to the queen's manipulation. He turned his head and caught sight of a Jumper appearing from nowhere. Abruptly, the queen's mind left his. Pushed beyond what his injured body could take, the void left by the queen's consciousness was filled with blackness and helplessly, John succumbed to it.

--

Ronon embraced the moment of vengeful pleasure he felt as the queen's body go limp in his grip. With a growl of his own he dropped her body and started towards the queen that held Sheppard in her grasp. The warrior within him wanted nothing more than to run her down and kill her, but as she turned away from Sheppard, loyalty to his friend took over within Ronon as he watched Sheppard collapse.

Running to the body of a dead Malnek, Ronon never broke stride as he grabbed his sword and forcefully yanked it from the carcass, before he turned towards his friend. Staggering to a stop next to Sheppard, Ronon tightly gripped the sword with both hands. A cold, half smile turned up one side of his mouth, as he silently dared any Wraith to come within striking distance of him.

--

She wouldn't leave Rodney's side, no matter what happened. Abruptly, as the queens retreated under the attack of the Lanteans, she found herself with the option to actually move, and she chose to stay at Rodney's side.

Teyla saw John collapse, unconscious but not fed upon and she saw Ronon charge to his defense.

"We have to get the hell out of here!" Rodney insisted as he pointed towards another entrance on the far side of the Round, where at least a dozen Wraith were running towards them. "Before they get in range!"

Teyla grabbed his arm and started running towards the Marines laying down cover fire. "Run, Rodney!" Grateful she didn't have to ask more than once, Teyla restricted her stride to match Rodney's and stayed with him as they headed towards the Marines, who were rapidly circling Ronon and Sheppard.

--

"Oh, no you don't," Lorne muttered aloud as he watched the Wraith race towards his people. Briefly closing his eyes, Lorne sent three drones directly at them. He smiled as the drones, far enough from his people not to hurt them, impacted, consuming the Wraith in a flash of orange and yellow. Lorne smacked his headset. "Simms! High tail it! It's not going to take them long to come at us again!"

Concentrating on the HUD, Lorne landed the Jumper and opened the hatch, all the while keeping an eye out for his next target.

--

Ronon lowered his sword as the constant gunfire from the Marines took out the remaining Wraith with only one soldier going down to stunner fire. Another Marine grabbed the stunned soldier as Ronon dropped to Sheppard's side, turning his friend on his back and frowning at his pale skin. Ronon fought back his fatigue and lightheadedness as one of the soldiers, Lieutenant Simms he recalled, stopped in front of him.

"You okay?"

"Been better," Ronon answered quietly.

"Anderson! Reeves! The Colonel!" Simms ordered.

The two Marines ran up to Sheppard and carefully picked him up as mindful of his wounds as they could be.

Ronon watched them for a moment before begrudgingly admitting to himself that he probably didn't have the strength to carry his injured friend. He took a moment to look at Teyla and Rodney as they joined the group. Fatigue made Ronon's legs heavy, but he forced them to move as they headed to the Jumper while the remaining Marines covered their six.

--

Every part of Rodney's body shook as he dropped into a seat in the back of the Jumper. His gaze focused on Sheppard's unconscious form as two Marines laid him on the floor before another closed the hatch.

"Hang on!" Lorne's order sounded from the cockpit and Rodney felt himself rocked to his left as the Jumper lurched off the ground. Reaching out to steady himself, he inadvertently bumped into Ronon who sat next to him. Rodney looked up, meeting the Satedan's gaze. Ronon's eyes were bloodshot, his face was pale and if it was anyone else, Rodney would've sworn he looked weak… something he'd never voice to Ronon. But, in that silent moment Rodney was sure one thought passed between them.

We're alive.

Rodney nodded slightly before pulling in a deep breath and standing. He wormed his way through a couple Marines and came up behind Lorne's chair. "Wraith at the gate?"

"Not that I can tell yet," Lorne answered. He chanced a glance at Rodney. "Could be a bumpy ride, McKay. Better sit down."

"Yes, thank you Dad," Rodney snapped, but the effort to even snark at Lorne was almost too much. He staggered, before quickly grabbing the back of Lorne's chair. He wasn't sporting the injuries Sheppard and Ronon were, but dehydration, malnourishment and exhaustion were taking their toll on him, in spite of the adrenaline all of them had relied on to survive the fight.

"That wasn't a request, Doc," Lorne added, his tone hardening slightly while his gaze never left the HUD.

Ten different snappy comebacks flashed through Rodney's head, but he lacked the strength to voice even one of them. Stumbling backwards, he felt one of the Marine's hands on his shoulders before he was guided to a seat. Rodney leaned back heavily and turned his head slightly, focusing on Sheppard. One of the Marines was rapidly applying field dressings and pressure bandages to the Colonel's injuries, while another reached for his neck and palpated a pulse. Rodney looked up, meeting the concerned gazes of Ronon and Teyla. _If I look as bad as they do…_ He swallowed against a raspy throat and focused on one of the Marines attending Sheppard. "Is he okay?" He croaked.

The Marine looked at him for a moment, his expression grim, before returning his attention to Sheppard.

"Wraith all around the gate," Lorne commented to no one in particular. "This'll be tricky."

"Dial!" Rodney managed. "Elizabeth will keep the shield up until she hears from us."

"I like that idea," Lorne replied. "They'll either go through the gate and meet the shield, or we'll have time to assemble a strike team and they'll take 'em out." Lorne nodded to Simms who sat in the co-pilot seat. "Dial."

Rodney blinked hard and rolled his head right, forcing his double vision to focus on a single HUD image. As soon as the gate was active, Lorne opened a channel to Atlantis.

"Atlantis this is Lorne. We have Colonel Sheppard's team, but are coming in hot. Estimate 25 Wraith at the gate with more on the way. Keep the shield up and get an assault team in the gate room immediately!"

"Major, this is Weir. Copy that. Team on their way."

"Acknowledged, ma'am. Have Beckett and a medical team standing by in the Jumper bay. We have injuries."

"Major!"

Rodney quickly turned his head towards the voice, instantly regretting the quick motion. One of the Marines tending Sheppard stood, pulled a large case from the overhead storage and hastily propped Sheppard's legs up on it, before carefully lifting his arm. "The Colonel's bleeding badly. He needs medical attention ASAP."

"Workin' on it, Corporal." Lorne's voice was even, but still held a note of tension.

Rodney forced his attention to focus on the HUD again as half the Wraith life signs disappeared. He blinked hard, hoping it wasn't his vision playing tricks on him.

"Half went through the gate," Lorne confirmed. "Atlantis, please tell me you still have the shield up?"

"Affirmative, Major," Weir answered. "We just saw several impacts on the shield."

"Half the bad guys," Lorne replied.

"Good to hear." Weir's voice was dryly cynical. "Assault team assembled."

"Copy that, we're almost to the gate. ETA: 15 seconds."

"Lowering the shield," Weir answered. "We'll clear the floor for you. Come home."

"Acknowledged." Lorne squinted as the remaining dozen or so Wraith disappeared through the gate. "Wraith soldiers inbound!"

Rodney could feel the vibration of the drive pods retracting as they raced towards the event horizon and in the next second, he felt the familiar tingling of wormhole transport. Emerging in Atlantis' gate room, the next thing Rodney was aware of was distinct thuds on the hull of the Jumper as they bowled over several Wraith.

"Remind me to stay off the road when you're driving, sir," Simms quipped.

Machine gun fire echoed as Lorne activated the radio.

"Dr. Weir?"

"Gate room is secure, Major. Beckett and a team are in the Jumper bay. What are the injuries?"

Rodney could feel the Jumper ascend as Lorne replied. "Colonel Sheppard is unconscious and bleeding badly and his whole team could use some time in the infirmary."

"Copy that, I'll meet you in the Jumper Bay. Weir out."

Rodney looked down at one of the Marines kneeling next to Sheppard and watched as the soldier shook his head in frustration.

"Come on, sir," the soldier muttered, his hand never leaving Sheppard's neck.

Rodney couldn't lift his head as the Jumper settled into place in the bay and the back hatch slowly lowered. He didn't have to open his eyes to know Carson was there.

"Good Lord!" Beckett's voice preceded fast footsteps as the Marines vacated the Jumper and the medical team entered.

--

"Colonel? Son, can ye hear me?"

Carson peeled back the pressure bandaged from Sheppard's arm and winced before pressing a gloved hand over a section still bleeding heavily. Most of his medical career he'd spent in the city. First in Edinburgh, then London, but he could still recognize an animal attack when he saw one. He'd seen dog attacks in London, but they were nothing compared to this. The colonel's arm was savaged in several places and would need extensive repair. _Bleeding, not spurting…_ Carson mentally compared the symptoms to anatomy. "Looks like it missed the artery, thankfully, but he's still bleeding heavily. Caught the brachial vein from the looks of it. Someone get me a clamp, now." He looked up at his medic, Carolyn Lansing, who pulled a stethoscope from her ears.

"BP is 90/60, pulse 110," Carolyn reported.

He nodded. "Start an IV, Ringers, wide open. We've got to get his volume up… and get him on oxygen." He shook his head. "What the bloody hell did this?"

"Malnek," Ronon immediately answered.

"A what?" Carson questioned.

"Pit Bull on steroids," Rodney supplied.

Carson furrowed his brows before again shaking his head. "Tell me later." He switched his attention to one of the physicians on his staff who was taking Ronon's BP. "Cole? Good lass. Get the vitals on Teyla and Rodney as well and triage their injuries. We need to know what we're dealing with here."

Cole glanced up at him and nodded slightly.

He looked at his nurse. "Susan, get me some sterile gauze, I need to see what I'm doing here, but we're not moving him one inch until this vein is clamped off."

"Carson?" Carolyn looked up at him. "IV started."

Carson nodded as he moved his hand and allowed the nurse to try to clear some blood and expose the lacerated vein. "Carolyn, take a look at the other wounds and let me know if any of them are as serious as this." He knew he was treading close to treating his medic like a doctor, but Carolyn Lansing had been on his staff from the beginning and he had nothing but trust and respect for her trauma skills, honed by years as a paramedic with the Chicago Fire Department.

"Good," Carson muttered to his nurse as he focused on Sheppard's arm. He shook his head. "Get me some damned light here!" He heard rustling behind him, before a beam of light focused on Sheppard's arm.

"Work, Doc?"

Carson glanced back for a second and gave a perfunctory nod to Lieutenant Simms who held a Xenon flashlight high over his head. "Perfect, Lieutenant." Carefully working his way into the wound, Carson found his target just as a quiet moan from Sheppard was followed immediately by weak movement. "Damn it," Carson looked up. "Colonel? Hold still. Can ye hear me lad?" Carson gritted his teeth and returned his attention to the task. He knew poking around in Sheppard's arm would be painful if the colonel woke, but the wound was still bleeding badly and from the look of Sheppard's vitals, the colonel had lost a considerable amount of blood. Combined with physical stress and what looked like dehydration, he was in no condition to be losing more. Carson didn't have time for local anesthetic or niceties. It was times like this when the first rule of medicine: Do No Harm, ran head-long into the reality of saving the patient's life.

Carson prodded the tissue and the colonel moaned again, this time louder. Once more, he found his target, took a deep breath and clamped it. "All right, that gets it. Immobilize the arm and let's get him onto a gurney and to the infirmary."

"Carson? The other wounds are deep but not critical. He'll probably need stitches, but the pressure bandages are working." Carolyn sat back.

"Good. We'll look at those when we get to the infirmary. Call ahead and have the OR prepped. I want to get this clamp off and that vein repaired as soon as possible. Get Peterson to scrub in. I want a vascular surgeon in on this."

Carolyn jumped to her feet. "Got it." She hurried out the back of the Jumper.

It was then that Carson saw Elizabeth, standing rigid but quiet at the foot of the ramp. Carefully keeping his expression neutral, he nodded once at her. "Okay, people," he looked down at his patient as Susan finished a quick splint to Sheppard's arm. "Too tight in here for a stretcher. Let's get the colonel on a backboard to get him out." With the assistance of his medics, Carson quickly got Sheppard out of the Jumper and onto a waiting stretcher.

"Ronon has a wound on his side that's infected. Looks like he'll need broad spectrum antibiotics and the wound will need to be debrided." Cole reported. "Other than that, they're all dehydrated and look to be malnourished. They're banged up and sporting what look like superficial wounds."

Carson nodded as he secured Sheppard to the stretcher. "Aye, thank you. Everyone goes to the infirmary for complete checkups." He took a second to glance at Ronon who stood at an awkward angle. "On the stretcher with ye." He pointed to the second stretcher and hardened his gaze as Ronon glared at him, his dark eyes all the more intense when contrasted against his pale face. "Don't you look at me that way," he scolded. "On the stretcher with ye!" Carson raised his voice. "Now!"

Ronon managed a slightly bemused look before he slowly settled onto a stretcher without a comment.

"Wait!"

Carson turned, halted by Rodney's unexpectedly strong voice. "Rodney?" His gaze narrowed at the borderline panicked look on Rodney's face.

"Transmitters!" Rodney reached over his shoulder, rubbing his back vigorously.

"What…" Elizabeth started only to be interrupted by Teyla.

"The Wraith implanted us with transmitters before they took us to the planet."

"And you didn't mention this **before** we returned to Atlantis?" Lorne interrupted hotly.

"I didn't… couldn't think," Rodney stammered.

"None of us did," Teyla insisted quietly.

Carson sighed. Pushed past their mental and physical limits it was a wonder any of them were standing, much less able to think properly. As much as he wanted to blame Rodney for forgetting, he simply could not.

"Carson, we have to get those out, now." Elizabeth fixed an intense gaze on him.

Carson looked down at Sheppard and shook his head. "You want me to cut into his back and remove that thing now? I can't. The Colonel isn't stable. It's bad enough that we have to perform necessary surgery on his arm!"

"They're not subspace! The Wraith would have to be close by to detect the signal!" The effort of his exclamation forced Rodney to latch onto the nearest medic, if only to keep from falling.

"We don't know that for sure, Rodney," Teyla insisted quietly.

"It's the only thing that makes sense," Rodney insisted.

"Whatever the type," Elizabeth interrupted insistently, "Atlantis' survival depends on the ruse that we destroyed the city. We can't take the chance of being detected."

Carson swallowed hard and nodded. As much as he hated it, he knew she was right… and knew Sheppard would want it this way. "Aye," he agreed quietly.

"Wait…" Rodney pushed himself away from the medic supporting him. "Dampening field." He blinked hard and took a deep breath. "Dampening field around the infirmary. The signal wouldn't escape. That would buy you time to wait and remove the transmitter from Sheppard." Rodney's eyes slid shut and he groaned, reaching blindly for the medic who quickly grabbed him.

"Rodney, sit down before you fall down," Carson insisted, glad that Rodney didn't put up a fight when the medic eased him down on the Jumper's open hatch.

In spite of his condition, Rodney still reached up and snatched the medic's radio off his ear. "Radek, its Rodney. I need a dampening field around the infirmary right away. It needs to block any sort of Wraith signal."

"Dampening field? What? Why?" Radek replied over the radio, his tone of voice clearly confused.

"No time for the play by play!" Rodney snapped with surprised intensity. "Just do it fast!"

"Quickly, Radek," Weir confirmed.

"Will take a few minutes but I'll do this immediately." Radek responded.

Carson shook his head as Rodney waved his hand impatiently at the medic.

"Help me up! The longer we sit here, the more risk we take that the signal from these transmitters will get picked up by your friendly neighborhood Hive!" Leaning heavily on the medic, Rodney slowly walked towards the Jumper Bay entrance.

"Right, let's move." Carson grabbed one side of Sheppard's stretcher as two other medics also took hold and they quickly wheeled Sheppard from the Jumper Bay just behind the rest of the group.

--

The faint vibration under his back confused him and so did the bright lights above; visible even through lidded eyes.

John inhaled. The air he took in was sweet with oxygen and after a brief struggle, he managed to open his eyes. Bright lights passed over his head and he suddenly realized whatever he was laying on, was moving. His whole body hurt. He felt like he'd been run over by a car… repeatedly. Turning his head slightly his mouth automatically turned up in the slightest of smile at the concerned face that greeted him. "…lizbth," he managed quietly.

There was no way she could cover her concern, although she tried to hide it behind a strained smile. "John. You're back on Atlantis. We're taking you to the infirmary. You're going to be just fine."

A strong sense of worry gnawed at him and he managed to furrow his brows.

"John?"

Elizabeth's question was worried. She must've noticed the change in his expression. "Rnon… Tyla… Rdny?" he slurred, the effort of speaking almost too much for him. He heard her sigh as her tense smile returned.

"They're all right, John. You're all going to the infirmary."

Urgency gripped him and in spite of his injuries, John tried to sit up. "Transmitters…" He felt a cool and gentle but firm hand on his chest.

"Zelenka has raised a dampening field around the infirmary," Elizabeth reassured. "We won't be detected before Carson can remove them. It's okay."

"Colonel?"

Another voice grabbed John's attention and he slowly turned his head towards it. Carson's strongly reassuring expression met his gaze.

"You'll be fine, son," Carson said gently.

John's eyelids felt heavy. He had no strength left to fight the warm darkness that surged through him. Closing his eyes, he succumbed.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating… again! Busy real life and I rescued a cute kitty from the animal shelter so he's been taking my time as well. ;) Only one more chapter after this! :)_

_--_

_For those of you that have read some of my other work, you may recognize a few references here, but reading my other stories isn't necessary for understanding this one._

_Long before a back story for Sheppard was established with Outcast, I took the MGM/Scifi description of his father being a celebrated Cold War Colonel and ran with it, writing a trilogy of stories surrounding Sheppard and his father. For me, that always has felt 'real'. So forgive me if I continue down my now AU path for John Sheppard's life…_

--

_The warm darkness was comforting._

"_You've been here before."_

_John turned around, following the voice to the motionless form of his father. "Dad?" he whispered._

_Marcus Sheppard walked towards him. "You look good… well as good as you could, considering the circumstances." _

_John blinked and looked around, his gaze finding only inky darkness. He returned his attention to his father. "Dad, how… where…"_

_Marcus shook his head. "Don't try to understand," he said quietly. A peculiar look crossed his face; a satirical cross between humor and worry. "But you've done this before… we've done this before." _

_John just stared at him, but his mind raced, looking back, finding memories his conscious mind had never seen. A planet. Cold... His moment of realization must've shown on his face, because his dad nodded in agreement. "I told you to be strong then, and you were. I'm telling you to do it again." _

_John turned away. "I'm strong all the time Dad, at least I try to be. But, I'm not sure how many more times I can do this."_

"_As many times as you have to." Marcus' voice took on a hard edge as he walked closer to his son. "I pushed you hard, John, I know. But there was a reason." He paused._

_John slowly turned and looked at a face filled with regret. _

"_I know it drove a wedge between us and I regret that much, but you've always been strong, son, from the day you were born." He pursed his lips as his gaze narrowed. "Strength like that will drive you to do great things, John… to make a difference." _

_Again, John turned away, words fleeing him. What could he say to the man that had forged him into what he was today? The man who he'd always loved, even when they nearly came to blows several times over the years. "I don't know if I can do it, Dad…"_

_"You can," Marcus insisted. "You were strong for them on the planet. Got them out of that hellhole."_

_Unconvinced, John sighed. "Not everyone."_

_"By now, you should know that you can't save everyone all the time, John… you did save your team. Accept that." Marcus said quietly_. _"Son, look at me.", he waited until John turned and faced him before he continued. "It's always been easier for you to be strong for others; that's your mother in you." A wistful smile crossed his face. "I'm telling you now to take that strength for yourself. Be selfish, John. You've earned the right." _

_John tried to answer, but pain stole his voice and abruptly his father disappeared…_

"… unconscious… lost a lot of blood… surgery…"

Disconnected voices reached him as the darkness around John gave way to light. He groaned quietly and was rewarded with a shuffle of feet around him.

"Colonel?"

His mind clearing slightly, he recognized Carson's distinct accent as he forced his eyes open. "Doc?" he whispered.

"Aye," Carson's voice was equally quiet. "Just lie back and relax, son. We're taking you into surgery soon. We'll get ye fixed up in a jiffy."

John drew in a stuttering breath, the air behind his oxygen mask warm and humid. His eyes moved, taking in the room around him; and recognized the pre-op ward. Carson's green surgery scrubs only confirmed his suspicions. "Others?" he managed.

"In beds of their own."

Carson's voice betrayed an edge that, even in his muddled state, John easily recognized as exasperation. He guessed the fight to keep them in bed had been a lulu to watch. "Didn't like it?" John offered, one corner of his mouth turning up in a shadowed imitation of a smile.

"Aye, pigheaded buggers," Carson grumbled, but his tone was affectionate if not entirely patient. "Ronon's the worst off, but of course was the hardest to keep in bed. Had to sedate him to make him stay."

John forced his eyes open wider. "'s okay?" Worry tensed him and John groaned as his body protested. He felt a warm, firm grip on his shoulder.

"Aye, he'll be fine," Carson reassured quietly. "Antibiotics and a week's rest and he'll be back to his charming self. Teyla and Rodney are banged up a little, a bit dehydrated and malnourished, but otherwise fine."

John let out a pent up breath and forced his body to relax.

Carson sighed loudly. "I daresay, Colonel, that you're the worst off of the lot. So, stop fretting about them and think about you. Use some of the pig headed stubbornness on yourself for a change," he chastised lightly.

"_I'm telling you now to take that strength for yourself. Be selfish, John. You've earned the right."_

John let his father's words sooth him as he nodded slightly, his eyelids drooping. He watched Carson inject something in his IV right before a warm flush raced through his body and he surrendered to oblivion.

--

Elizabeth stood silently at the foot of Ronon's bed, her gaze fixed on his peaceful face. Sweat still lined his brow, and his complexion was pale and far from normal, but not even with his strength was he able to resist the sedation Carson had resorted to administering. Her eyes drifted upwards and fixed on the IV hanging over his head; providing a cocktail of antibiotics to combat the infection from his wound and fluids for dehydration.

"Carson said he should be fine."

Elizabeth turned her head and smiled thinly at Rodney, who was picking at the remnants of food on his dinner tray, but she said nothing. She knew Rodney was trying, in his own way, to reassure her even though she'd been party to Carson's diagnosis of Ronon's condition. Still, seeing the big man so still and weak, bothered her. For while he'd been so standoffish in the beginning, he'd become an integral part of Sheppard's team and of her expedition and she worried for his welfare.

"He is strong," Teyla added, pushing her tray aside.

Elizabeth turned away from Ronon's bed and walked a short distance to stand between Rodney and Teyla's. Both of them were clean and wore fresh scrubs and both had IV bags hanging over their heads, slowly dripping fluids down a long tube leading into each of their arms. Laced into the fluids was a broad spectrum antibiotic being administered as a precaution against the filthy surroundings they'd been forced to live in. When Elizabeth had first seen them, she'd hoped her eyes were being deceived by dirt and grime but, even clean, she could plainly see that they all had lost considerable weight through their ordeal. "Shouldn't the two of you be resting?" She asked, lightly.

"Do I look like I'm running a marathon?" Rodney replied, his tone slightly annoyed.

Elizabeth chose to say nothing. Beyond the normal, snappy attitude of Rodney McKay she knew that, in this case, there was an underlying concern that made his tongue that much sharper. Unconsciously, she looked past him towards the closed doors leading to the OR. A quiet sigh escaped her.

"He will recover, Elizabeth," Teyla stated softly.

The same thin smile from before graced her face for a moment before she looked down at Teyla. "What happened?"

"The Wraith began culling the planet shortly after we arrived." Teyla responded. "We were ambushed by Wraith soldiers while trying to return to the Stargate and were captured."

Elizabeth nodded. "The details we were able to ascertain while we searched for you were sketchy at best, but it's my understanding that you were taken for some sort of… sport fighting?"

"Think of Ancient Rome, Elizabeth," Rodney interjected. "Gladiatorial combat," Rodney's voice wavered slightly, "with a Wraith twist. The fights were to survive. The losers of each bout, more often than not, were fed upon by the queens."

Elizabeth turned her head and stared at him for a moment. "Oh my God…" Her gaze narrowed as she struggled to grasp what he was telling her while, at the same time, noting the guilt that permeated his expression. "Rodney?"

"It was not your fault, Rodney," Teyla interjected.

"What wasn't?" Elizabeth's gaze intensified.

Rodney looked back at her for a moment before dropping his head. "The Wraith male… when we were captured, he could tell, I mean he knew… that I wasn't a fighter. He was going to feed on me." Rodney waved his hand absently. "Sheppard he… he struck a deal with the Wraith," he gestured at Teyla even though he didn't make eye contact with her. "They'd fight. In exchange the Wraith wouldn't outright kill me."

"As I said," Teyla insisted, "you should not feel guilt over this. The alternative was the Wraith feeding upon all of us without hesitation. This way, gave us some time and eventually led to our escape with our lives."

Elizabeth nodded. "Teyla is right, Rodney."

"I know that!" Rodney snapped. "But you didn't have to watch them fight for their lives again and again and be powerless to…." His voice trailed off and he blushed at his outburst; something that revealed more of himself then he was comfortable exposing.

Elizabeth's lips pressed into a thin line before she walked over and squeezed his arm gently. "Rodney," she said quietly. She caught his gaze and held it, letting her reassuring and compassionate expression speak in tones louder than words.

"You would have done the same for any of us, Rodney," Teyla added softly. "As Colonel Sheppard has said, it is part of being a team." Teyla paused for a long moment, and then continued. "Perhaps, we can teach you how to at least defend yourself?"

That much yanked Rodney out of his guilt. "That's what guns are for," he replied sarcastically. "The last thing I want is to be like Conan over there," he gestured at Ronon's bed. "I'll stick with solving things with my brain and leave the brawn up to you three, thank you very much."

Elizabeth looked over at Teyla and shared a knowing smile with her.

"Oh fine, sure, I get it," Rodney added. He shot an accusatory look at Teyla who just shrugged.

"My offer was sincere, Rodney," she answered, her tone just a little too sweet.

"Right! Funny!" Rodney flopped back on his pillow with a huff.

Still holding her smile, this one much broader with relief, Elizabeth pulled up a chair and settled back, content, as they were, to wait for Carson and word on John.

--

Carson swore surgery just wasn't as easy as it used to be.

He rubbed the back of his neck and groaned as he immediately amended his thought. _It's never been easy._ Six hours after they'd entered the operating room, Colonel Sheppard was in recovery and Carson found himself, aches and all, headed out to talk to the people he knew would be waiting for him. He took a deep breath as the doors parted and he entered the main area of the infirmary.

He looked to his left and met three sets of expectant eyes. Elizabeth sat between Teyla and Rodney's beds and they all were looking at him. Not far beyond Teyla, Ronon, still sedated and definitely sicker then he'd admitted, slept soundly. Carson smiled slightly at Teyla, Rodney and Elizabeth and walked over to them as Elizabeth stood.

"Carson? How is he?" Elizabeth asked immediately, her voice tired but concerned.

"He's in recovery," Carson answered. "It was a lot of work; his arm was a mess, but I think we got things pretty much patched up. We can just be thankful the laceration was to the vein and not the artery. Sympathetic pressure saved him from bleeding to death."

"Then he will be all right?" Teyla asked.

Carson sighed deeply. "It looks promising. The tissue surrounding the wounds took a hell of a beating as well. That thing didn't just bite him, it mangled his arm. He'll carry some scars from this."

"Yeah," Rodney's voice was soft. "Once it got a hold of him, it shook his arm pretty hard before he got free."

"Aye," Carson nodded. "It looked it. I can't be sure but there looks like there could be some trauma to the radial nerve, which isn't unexpected. How extensive the damage is, I won't know until he wakes up and we can take a look at the motor skills in his hand."

"And if it's damaged?" Elizabeth asked.

Carson stared at her a moment, reluctant to be pressed for answers he wasn't sure he had. "It depends on how bad the injury is, Elizabeth," he answered. "If the damage is minor, it should heal on its own with the help of physical therapy. If the damage is more substantial, nerve graphs may be necessary. At this point, I can't tell and I can't make you any promises."

"But, he will recover?" Rodney piped in, all traces of the normal acerbic attitude he carried, gone.

Carson turned his hesitant look on Rodney. "Aye, he should," he answered.

"Should?" Elizabeth's gaze narrowed in concern.

Carson was unwilling to raise her expectations, but was also equally as unwilling to dash them apart. "Yes, should." He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. "Elizabeth, I can't make you any guarantees, but the injury, while serious, could've been a lot worse. At this point, be thankful for that much." He gave her a small smile, to which she just nodded silently.

--

"_See? You're stronger than you think you are, John."_

_John turned around, again being met with the sight of his father watching him patiently. A small smile turned up one side of his mouth. "Yeah, I guess."_

"_You guess?" Marcus Sheppard replied. "I know." His smile deepened. "Don't ever forget that."_

John slowly opened his eyes and looked around. As the fog of unconsciousness faded away, he became more and more aware of his body. He could feel a snug bandage on his right arm and another crossing his abdomen, presumably bandaging the sword gash on his side. His entire body ached and he felt about as strong as newborn. _Probably about as helpless too… _ He turned his head slightly, his check rubbing against soft padding. John groaned quietly as his awareness sharpened. His entire left arm felt restricted and it was only then he realized it was bound from over his shoulder, all the way down to just above his wrist, by a thick, snug bandage. He sucked in a deep breath, memories swarming over him. _Patch, Wraith, fighting… Malneks…_

"You're awake, I see."

John turned his head left and a corner of his mouth turned up slightly at Carson's smile. "Hey," he rasped against a dry throat.

"Hey yourself." Carson walked over to his bed, picked up a cup and held the straw to his mouth. "Slowly now. I didn't just put ye back together only to have you choke."

John's smile deepened slightly around the straw as he sucked up a mouthful of ice cold water. He swallowed and settled his head back against the pillow. "Good."

"Aye, I'll bet. All of you came in here dehydrated and malnourished."

At the mention of his team, John tensed. "Teyla, Ronon, Rodney?" He started to lift himself off the bed, only to run, chest first, in to Carson's firm hand.

"None of that now," Carson admonished gently. "Teyla and Rodney are fine. Nothing some IV's and a few hot meals won't cure. Ronon isn't far behind. He's responding well to the antibiotics."

John relaxed under Carson's strong hand and allowed himself to be pushed back down onto the bed. Not that he'd managed to rise far, but the few inches he'd gained seemed like a mile to his battered body. He turned his head left. "Arm?"

Carson sighed. "It was a mess. Those beasties did a number on ye, lad."

John closed his eyes momentarily against the memory of hot carrion breath, growls and searing pain. "Yeah." He drew in a deep breath. "Is it okay?"

"'Tis patched up, but I want to check a couple of things," Carson responded. "Close your eyes and tell me when you feel me touch the back of your hand."

John nodded slightly and closed his eyes. Mentally, he focused on his left hand and waited. Just when he was about to open them and ask Carson what was taking him so long, he felt the brush of what he thought was the point of a pen across his middle finger and first knuckle. "Now."

"Keep them closed and tell me again when you feel the pen on your hand," Carson's tone was neutral.

John sighed and again focused on his hand. Once again, it seemed ages before he felt Carson's pen trace across his middle finger onto his index finger. "Now," The touch continued up his hand towards his wrist before abruptly the sensation disappeared. John opened his eyes. "I felt…" his voice trailed off as his gaze focused on the pen, still touching his hand, it's tip grazing cross his pinkie. His heart thudded in his chest as he realized he couldn't feel it. His whole body tensed. "Doc," his whisper was strangled by his tight throat.

"It's all right," Carson reassured immediately. "I thought this might happen."

"I can't feel it." The words tumbled out of John's mouth; though judging by Carson's expression, this wasn't unexpected.

"I know," Carson answered. He fixed John with a strong and reassuring gaze. "I know its unsettling son, but it's okay."

"Like hell it is," John hissed back before he took a deep breath, forcing iron control over his surge of emotion. He watched as Carson slid his hands under his bandaged arm.

"Relax your whole arm and don't do any work. Let me do all the lifting." Carson instructed.

John nodded, wincing slightly at dull spikes of pain shooting up from his protesting bicep. But as quickly as they hit, they dulled against what John was sure was a nifty cocktail of happy juice. "Thanks for the drugs," he commented, trying to hold a light tone.

One side of Carson's mouth quirked. "Aye." His smile faded as he stared at John's limp wrist. "Lift your hand slowly, Colonel."

John internally shrugged at the easy request, but his emotions surged again as, no matter how hard he concentrated, he couldn't lift his hand. Pathetically limp under his gaze, his fingers twitched slightly, but that was all the response he could muster. "What the hell…" his voice trailed off as he felt a bitter stab of fear. "Doc," he whispered as Carson slowly lowered his arm to the bed, "what's wrong?" He gasped slightly, his breaths resembling something of a pant as he waited for Carson's answer.

"Looks like radial nerve damage," Carson answered. "I'm not surprised, given the extensive trauma to the entire area surrounding your humerus."

John's racing mind suddenly zeroed in on one thought. Words like 'disability' and 'honorable discharge' flashed across his mind. "Tell me I can recover from this," he insisted quietly.

Carson's expression turned reassuring. "Aye. 'Tis unsettling, I know, but the prognosis on an injury like this is very good. There's no reason to believe you won't recover fully with therapy and hard work."

John took a deep, calming breath. "Unsettling is an understatement, Carson."

Carson nodded in response.

John drew in another breath, pushing away the thoughts of his own injuries. "I need to talk to Elizabeth."

Carson shook his head. "No, you need your rest…"

"Carson," John interrupted, "this is important." He stared hard at Carson. "Please," his voice was quiet but intense.

After a long moment, Carson pressed his lips together and nodded. "Only for a few minutes, then you rest. Deal?"

John nodded. "Deal." He stared up at the ceiling as Carson left and tried to push through the muddled effects of the waning anesthesia and organize his thoughts. He'd be better prepared to talk to Elizabeth if he took some time to completely get over the anesthetic drugs, but right now that wasn't a luxury he felt he had.

After several minutes, John was starting to doubt that Carson heeded his request but as he thought of ways to get to Elizabeth on his own, the door parted and she quickly walked through, making a beeline for his bed.

"John," she smiled thinly. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"Probably," John admitted blinking hard, "but this can't wait."

Elizabeth took another step closer to his bed. "What can't wait? What's wrong?"

John took a deep breath. "The planet. All those prisoners." His brow furrowed. "Elizabeth, we can't just leave them there to die." He held onto her gaze until she closed her eyes and turned away. She took a long moment before she responded.

"Two of the queens survived, John."

She spoke softly, but John could hear the resolute tone in her voice. Still, he held his peace. Working with Elizabeth had taught him that his points went over much better if he let her speak without interruption; something it took him a while to learn.

"The planet is surely fortified against further attacks… if they're even still there." She turned back to him. "We can't do this. We can't risk compromising Atlantis."

John's lips tightened and his gaze turned distant as he thought of the helpless slaves, the hopeless fighters. The place had their "Patch" fighters, he was certain of that, but they also had people like Della who, while fighters, still were good people at heart; people that fought because they had to, not because they wanted to. They deserved a life… they deserved to be helped.

"Rodney and Teyla mentioned that one of the prisoners nearly killed you," Elizabeth went on, "yet, you still want to try to help them?"

John heard the hardness in her voice and realized she needed more of a reason for his request. "They didn't tell you about Della, did they?" he asked quietly. He looked up, taking the confusion in her eyes as her answer. "Didn't think so," he added softly.

"Who was Della?" Elizabeth walked back to his bed, her gaze questioning.

John swallowed. "One of the fighters. She helped us when she could with information we needed to survive, until we figured out what was going on."

"Is she still there?" Elizabeth asked.

John's eyes slid shut, the memory of Della being dragged from her cell still haunting him. "She got sick and the Wraith took her away." He looked down and fingered the fringe of his blanket with his good hand. "We found out later that one of the queens fed on her because she was too sick to survive on her own." John shook his head. "We could've helped her." A long silence compelled him to look up and meet Elizabeth's understanding gaze.

"You think there are more prisoners like this Della there?" She asked softly.

"Yeah, and more," John went on. "There were women there that were given to some of the successful male fighters, sort of as an incentive I guess. They were given to them for…" his voice trailed off but by the pallor of Elizabeth's face, he knew she'd jumped to the correct conclusion. "We can't just leave those people there, Elizabeth," John insisted quietly. He looked down at his bandaged arm and again felt, or rather didn't feel, the numbness in his hand. "I know, I'm in no condition to go anywhere for a while," he admitted bitterly, allowing his voice to trail off.

After a moment, Elizabeth sighed deeply. "The Daedalus isn't far. If it's not too dangerous I'll ask Colonel Caldwell to scan the planet for human life signs. At least then we'll know if anyone is left alive."

John nodded silently. He knew as well as her, that after the attack that led to his team's rescue, it was highly possible the surviving queens picked up and left to set up their "game" somewhere else. The remaining humans, most likely, were taken for food or outright killed. Still, he managed to find a small, strained smile. "Thanks."

Elizabeth nodded once. "Get some rest, Colonel." Without another word, she turned and left him alone.

John settled deeper into his pillow as he reflected on his experiences. Against the odds, once again, his team had survived, if barely. A twinge of pain and regret shot through him as his thoughts dwelled on Della. _If only we could've brought her to Atlantis…_ he shook off the thought. They'd done their best to help her and to survive. The blame for her death lay squarely on the shoulders of the Wraith, just as the blame for the deaths of Gaul, Abrams, Sumner and so many others they'd lost since coming to Atlantis, not to mention all the other humans in the galaxy. Mentally, John put one more checkmark in his running tally of deaths the Wraith would atone for, someday.


	10. Chapter 10

_Well, here we are. :) My thanks to those of you that put up with my hectic schedule and are still reading the story :) The reviews, as always are flattering, thanks so much. I must admit that while I write for my personal enjoyment, it's always nice to know that other people enjoy reading my work as well. :)_

_Sorry for yet another delay, I sliced my finger pretty bad so typing was a little difficult for a while. ;)_

_I have three rather ambitious story ideas plus one more that is about half done that are consuming my muse at the moment. It may be a while before I write any more ongoing stories, as these ones are the type that I write completely before posting at all. But, I will post them, just might not see anything from me for a while as I write them, unless a particularly vicious plot bunny attacks me from out of the blue. I think they're pretty neat ideas, and judging by the squeeing coming from the general vicinity of my intrepid beta reader, I'm not alone ;) _

--

John stood rock still, his gaze drifting out over the ocean surrounding the south pier. A light breeze blew across him and absently he noted its gentle caress over the back of his left hand. He'd had feeling in his hand for a couple weeks now, but he still relished the sensation. He tentatively flexed his wrist. It still was an effort, but one that grew easier by the day. In the four weeks since they'd returned to Atlantis, his time had been spent healing. Only recently he'd started physical therapy, but already he could feel the strength slowly returning to his arm. It'd be a long time before he'd be allowed to return to active duty, but that day would come; Carson had reassured him of that more than once. He drew in a deep breath of the fresh ocean air; a stark contrast to the stale, dirty air he and his team had been forced to breathe in the Pit. The more time that passed since their ordeal, the more perspective he'd managed to gain and once again, like he had so many times in the last couple weeks, his thoughts lingered on the Pit, the fights and the ordeal his team had endured. He closed his eyes, the Daedalus' report still fresh in his mind…

_Elizabeth's expression spoke loudly and clearly before one word ever was spoken. John closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the pillow. There was only one reason why she'd look solemn and apologetic so soon after sending the Daedalus to investigate the Wraith planet. "There's nothing left," he said quietly but with certainty._

_"No." She gently sat down on the edge of his bed. "After they were sure there wasn't a hive in the area, the Daedalus scanned the planet for life signs and found none. Colonel Caldwell sent a team of Marines down to investigate. The only humans left had been fed upon but it looks like most of the prisoners were just plain missing." _

_"So, it's likely the surviving queens picked up and went elsewhere, taking the prisoners with them either as fighters, or just as…" his voice trailed off._

_"Yes." Elizabeth squeezed his forearm. "I'm sorry, John." _

_Silently, John nodded. The rational side of him knew this was the most likely outcome but a loud part of him wished it would've been different, wished they could've helped… wished they could've saved at least a few of them. "You know," he finally spoke, "this 'imperfect world' thing really sucks." _

_"Yes, it does," Elizabeth immediately agreed…._

John turned away from the ocean view, its quiet majesty failing to bring him any peace. A strong breeze buffeted against his back, but he froze. Even from a distance, the tall, imposing form of Ronon was unmistakable.

For a moment, neither man moved. Then, Ronon slowly walked across the pier, the heavy tread of his boots lost to the sounds of the wind and ocean.

John turned back towards the ocean, one corner of his mouth turning up slowly as Ronon stopped next to him. "Howdya find me?"

"Followed my nose."

John glanced sideways at him and Ronon smiled slightly.

"McKay spotted one life sign out here. Thought it might be you." Amusement deepened the crinkles around his eyes as he met John's gaze. "Looks like I was right."

John nodded and let his gaze once again pass over the ocean. "Been cooped up in that infirmary too long, I needed some fresh air."

"Especially after the Pit," Ronon added quietly.

John's smile faded. "Yeah." With his good hand, he scratched the back of his head. "Not something I'd like to go through again."

"We made it out alive. That's what matters," Ronon stated with resolution.

John nodded slightly but said nothing.

"We couldn't help her, you know," Ronon added quietly.

John knew exactly who Ronon was talking about. "I know," he admitted, "but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Nope," Ronon answered, "not for a second." He stared hard at John. "But blame the Wraith, not yourself."

John silently nodded. Some antibiotics with Carson's thorough care, and Della would've survived. His gaze narrowed. Her death and the miserable life she led in the months leading up to it, were the Wraith's fault and theirs alone. His thoughts lingered on the queens. "They're probably not to happy we broke up their fun and games," he shrugged, "or killed two of their alliance for that matter."

"Nope." Ronon's mouth turned up slightly in what John could only call a maniacal smile. "Bet they're really pissed."

John shook his head in dark mirth at his friend's almost eager expression. His smile faded as he looked up at the sky. "They're still out there too. We'll have to be on our toes from now on."

"That's different then before?" Ronon quipped.

"True," John chuckled. He sighed. "T'eshii, Wraith, Replicators, Genii… Is there anyone left we haven't pissed off?"

Ronon chuckled. "Athosians." He looked sideways at John. "And Satedans."

John nodded. "Fair trade."

Ronon clapped him firmly on his good shoulder. "Come on. Weir said yes to going off world to see this Elena."

John smiled broadly. "Good." Elizabeth had been hesitant to authorize John's team to go off world with Halling, but John hadn't relented easily, once he'd been briefed on how, exactly, they'd managed find his team. When it had all sunk in, he realized just how much they owed this Elena person. In spite of his inactive status, John argued that he still needed to be there, the planet was safe, and if push came to shove, his right hand was fine and fully capable of gripping a nine mil.

He turned and headed back towards the city. "Come on. Let's do this before Elizabeth changes her mind."

--

The planet, John decided, was much like scores of others he'd visited; pleasant, but not remarkable. He slowly descended the grassy hill away from the Stargate, Halling next to him and his team behind. He tried to put aside the weird nakedness he felt being off world without a P-90 as his hand settled comfortably on his holstered side arm. He glanced sideways at the tall Athosian walking next to him. There wasn't much more to be said between them and from the time he'd spent living amongst the Athosians two years ago, he'd learned that they weren't a people that had use for superfluous chatter. The thanks he'd offered, it seemed, was enough…

_John looked up from his magazine and smiled as Halling walked up to his bed. _

_"Colonel," Halling's voice was predictably deep, but light. "It is good to see you and your team safe."_

_John's smile faded slightly behind gratitude. He lifted his hand. "Thanks doesn't seem to cut it, my friend." _

_Halling gripped his forearm tightly. "I am just glad I was able to help. The thanks though, really go to Elena for without her, we would not have known where to look."_

_John nodded. "You were still instrumental, according to Lorne." He shook his head slightly. "We… I owe you one." _

_Halling pulled his hand away from John's. "Your people have proven themselves to be admirable friends, Colonel. In spite of a… difficult beginning." _

_John remembered back to the suspicions in the early days of the expedition and nodded…_

John refocused his attention on the here and now as the team walked down a short path and into the village. He followed Halling as the big Athosian led them into Elena's dimly lit trading store.

John looked around, his eyes taking in brief glimpses of the scattered people that milled around, browsing through an assortment of goods and looking to trade. His eyes settled on Teyla as her mouth turned up in a warm smile. Following her gaze, John's eyes narrowed at an older woman who rounded a low counter and walked towards them.

"Quaint," Rodney muttered.

"Teyla Emmagan," she said quietly before touching foreheads with Teyla. "It warms my heart to see you safe. When Halling and Lorne told me what had happened, I doubted they'd ever find you."

"We were persistent," Halling nodded once at her in recognition.

"Lucky for us," John quipped lightly. He smiled warmly as the woman's eyes settled on him.

"Elena," Halling took a step closer to John, "This is Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard." Halling turned gesturing at Rodney and Ronon. "Dr. Rodney McKay and Ronon Dex. They are Teyla's companions."

Elena's gaze passed over each of them, before settling on John. "Come with me," she turned and headed towards the back of the building.

"Um… ok," Rodney's brows furrowed as he exchanged confused looks with John.

"This room has many strange ears," Teyla muttered. "We are safer discussing things in private."

John nodded. "Good plan." He immediately followed behind Elena while the rest filed behind him.

Elena stood next to an open door and gestured them into a large room, before closing the door behind them. "Many traders come through my doors and with most I do not know if they can be trusted." She smiled at John. "You were captured with Teyla as well?"

"Yes," John responded.

Elena smiled. "It gladdens me to see all of you safe then, for friends of Teyla and Halling are friends to me and mine." She nodded once. "Especially those who inhabit the Ancestral City."

John did his best to feign confusion. "I don't…"

"She knows," Halling interrupted.

"She what?" Rodney took a large step up next to Halling. "You told her?"

"He did not tell me," Elena soothed. "It is something I realized on my own." She slowly eased down on to a stool and gestured at a plank bench and other stools nearby. "Please. Sit."

John bit his lower lip and glanced at Teyla who nodded subtly at him before sitting next to Halling on the bench.

"Please," Elena insisted quietly.

John took a deep breath and nodded at Rodney and Ronon before all three sat down.

"Many people come through my shop, Lieutenant Colonel. One of the many things I have heard was that the Athosians had allied themselves with humans inhabiting the Ancestral City when Athos was destroyed… and that those humans were doing battle with the Wraith. I also learned that the Wraith destroyed the city and the humans living there, but when Halling came to trade a half season ago, I realized that some must have survived." She smiled. "There have been many stories of the human Lanteans since you arrived in this galaxy. When I saw Lorne with Halling and spoke with both men, it was not hard to deduce that you had tricked the Wraith to ensure your survival." She shifted her weight and winced. "As I told Lorne and Halling, your secret is safe with me. I do not know whether the Ancestral City still exists although for the sake of all the humans in this galaxy, I hope so, but I do know that your people bring hope to all of us, that someday we may rid ourselves of the yoke of Wraith domination." She smiled. "For that reason, and for my fondness of Teyla, colored with memories that reach back to when she was born, I helped where I could."

John sat quietly for a moment, as he absorbed all she'd said. Where there should've been alarms going off all over in his head at the possibility of Atlantis' secret being compromised, there was only trust, driven by a gut instinct that he'd learned long ago never to dismiss.

"This is so not good," Rodney lamented quietly.

"Do you not trust me?" Elena questioned her smile fading. "It was Halling and Lorne's trust in me that led them to you."

"He does not mean it that way, Elena," Teyla smoothly interjected. "Surely you see how dangerous it is for anyone to know of our survival. Not just for us, but for you also."

Elena's gaze softened. "I do. But as I said, I will not betray this confidence."

John took a deep breath and let it out before his eyes narrowed in respect. "I believe you," he said, with as much sincerity as he could. "You helped Lorne and Halling… and at quite a bit of risk to yourself, I assume?"

Elena nodded. "There is much risk in associating with Wraith worshippers, especially when seeking information from them."

John smiled slightly. "We owe you our lives. In my book that's worth a hell of a lot of trust."

Elena's expression turned thoughtful, before she smiled in return. "Your people are welcome under my roof at any time, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard."

"Call me John," John stood. "Thanks is one thing, but I'm going to do one better on it." He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a radio before handing it to her. "Keep this in a safe place and out of sight. Besides the Wraith, there are still a lot of unfriendly people looking for us. They'd know the technology on sight." From his other pocket, he pulled out a scrap of paper. "This is an address to a relay settlement of Athosians that know how to reach us." He handed the paper to her. "If you ever need **anything**, you contact us. We'll do our best to help you." He held Elena's gaze for a long moment… and then she smiled.

"Thank you, John," she said quietly and took a deep breath. "I hear many things from many people that come through my shop." She folded the slip of paper in half and placed it in her pocket. "I will contact you if I hear anything you might need to know." Elena placed her hands on his shoulders and bowed her head.

One corner of John's mouth turned up as he duplicated the gesture and gently tapped his forehead on hers.

"Go safely, John Sheppard." She lifted her head and looked past him to the others. "Go safely, all of you."

"And you, Elena," Teyla nodded back.

John pulled away from her, nodded once and led his team from the room.

--

John took a deep breath as he emerged from the wormhole into Atlantis' Gate room. He quietly looked around, realizing that he never got tired of the city.

"I'm starving!"

John chuckled at Rodney's exclamation. He looked over his shoulder as Ronon followed Rodney towards the armory and presumably the mess hall afterwards. Not far behind, Teyla said final farewells to Halling and rushed to catch up.

"You comin'?" Ronon paused, his expression questioning.

"He can catch up!" Rodney never broke stride. "Food isn't going to wait on one, indecisive Colonel!"

John rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I'll find ya in the mess." He headed towards the gate room stairs as Ronon jogged to catch up with Rodney.

John took the stairs two at a time, inwardly satisfied at how quickly his energy was returning. He flexed his left hand and his smile lingered as his grip strengthened. Crossing Ops, he stopped just outside of Elizabeth's office and sighed at her bowed head and intent focus on work. "Hey."

Elizabeth looked up and returned his smile. "Hey back. How was the visit?"

John causally strolled to one of the chairs opposite her desk and nonchalantly flopped down in it. "Fine. Gave Elena a radio and the address for the Athosian settlement at the beta site."

Elizabeth nodded. "Good."

"Elena promised to send on any information she hears that we might find useful," John added. "Not a bad resource if you ask me."

"Not at all," Elizabeth agreed. "Halling and Teyla seem to trust her explicitly and she was key to finding you and your team." Her smile faded and Elizabeth looked away.

John stared at her for a moment before he spoke. "We made it out alive."

A grim shadow of a smile pressed Elizabeth's lips together. "Yes."

John cocked his head. "Elizabeth?"

She bowed her head before looking up at him, her expression grim. "I almost didn't let Lorne take a team to find you," she admitted quietly.

John's gaze narrowed as he studied her expression. There was guilt there, but that was to be expected. But, beyond that, her face was fortified by a hardened determination and he knew that she hadn't made any decision in this entire ordeal, lightly. But, then again, Elizabeth never did. "It was a tough call."

"It was."

John leaned forward in her chair. "Elizabeth," he kept his voice quiet. "If rescuing us had meant sacrificing the security of this base, and Atlantis' cover, I would've been the first one to tell you not to do it." He held her gaze, and waited until she nodded back.

He stood up, walked a few steps to her desk and sat on the edge. "In fact, I'm going to take that choice out of your hands right now," he insisted. "As military commander, I'm ordering you to put the safety of this base before my team or anyone else. No exceptions."

Elizabeth arched a brow at him. "You really can't order me around, John."

"The hell I can't," he rebuked. "When it comes to the security of this base, I," he tapped his chest, "get the last word." A cynical half smile turned up one side of his mouth. "I know you hate that," he teased.

Her brow climbed higher. "Do not." She smiled.

John pushed himself off her desk and threw a lopsided smile over his shoulder as he walked out of her office. "Do to." As he crossed the walkway back to Ops, he heard her light laugh behind him.

John's smile faded. While the delivery had been darkly humorous, he knew she'd follow his direction without hesitation and if that day ever came, it'd be a hard choice, but one she'd find a way to make.

His thoughts lingered on the T'eshii, the Genii, the Wraith and anyone else that wanted to do harm to his city and the people he cared about and his eyes narrowed dangerously. _Just let them try._

Shaking off his dark mood, John trotted down the back stairwell and headed for the mess. These days, he and his team didn't seem to have a lot of down time just to hang out and he was damn sure going to take advantage of the time they had now… and let tomorrow take care of itself.

--End--


End file.
